


Subject to Change

by RBD



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: 18+, Bet your ass there will be angst, Demons, Eventual sexy times, File under "Its complicated but not really", Hongjoong is a passionate learner, I'm bad at tagging but these tags are SUBJECT TO CHANGE, M/M, Mild Horror, Mysterious futures, Mystery, Rating no longer pending, What the F is up with San, Witch Seonghwa, Witch Yoesang, Witches, Yunho is a good boy, a little trippy, alternative universe, bet your ass there wil be soft times, hot payoff, mild violence, mysterious pasts, occult things, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RBD/pseuds/RBD
Summary: Silence. Then a warm breath that shifted his bangs that had been swept over one side of his face. He sighed and closed his eyes to concentrate. His surroundings sounded as if it they were under water for only a moment and when he opened them again the world was a bit dimmer and more washed out than before, save for a bright, glowing boy standing so close to him that he almost teetered backwards on his heels. He was nearly as small as the man who had just left his shop and his hair floated around his lovely face like a golden cloud. Seonghwa didn’t think he’d ever get used to used to this breathtaking specter.(A largely untitled ATEEZ Witch AU. Plot driven w/ occasional sexual content. This fic is fictional fiction and does not reflect on the author's feelings about IRL subjects. If you are reading this, that means you are an adult and understand that this is fiction, does not reflect the author's RL feelings on Ateez and contains 18+ content. If you believe you have found your way here in error, feel free to click away right now.)
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, SeongSang - poly relationship, Seongjoong - Relationship, Yunsang - relationship
Comments: 34
Kudos: 105





	1. Luck

The young man had been in Seonghwa’s shop for fifteen minutes; the first customer all day, though it was near closing time. The owner watched as the customer searched the shelves and gathered items, taking note of every item he would need to re-align before retiring for the night. It was hard to tell what he was shopping for as the customer touched just about everything while his expression shifted between thrilled and confused. Bleached silver hair aside, Seonghwa didn’t think he looked the type. He dressed casually but thoughtfully; sharp angles and solid colors, a bit of jewelry but not a sigil, pentagram or crystal in sight. 

Seonghwa’s shop was niche, and its clientele were predictable. Locals referred to it as a new age shop in a way that made him cringe at times though he much preferred it to when customers professed their passion for ‘witchy stuff’. It was clean, well designed and organized with a strange, but not unpleasant smell. Though outfitted with some displays of tumbled stones, incense and essential oils (all of which the customer had taken no notice of), it was devoid of random religious iconography, quirky t-shirts or do-it-yourself books on spirituality. It had the feel of a true apothecary, with a beautiful display of rare or unique plants in the front window. A majority of the displays dedicated to product largely ignored by the regular customer.

These were the wares his single customer perused, picking things up, whispering to himself and putting it down unceremoniously. Seognhwa’s felt a pang of irritation as he counted the small ways he was going to have to regorgnize. The costumers hands were full and it definitely seemed as if he might make a purchase but the way he examined each item he touched struck Seonghwa as a bit ridiculous. His eyes narrowed as the customer reached way back into a display. That was until they widened into a slightly panicked expression when the products began to straighten themselves in his wake. Seonghwa snatched a large foreign-looking coin from beside the tablet based register, poised it on its edge and spun. He watched, waiting for it to give out and fall on its face. But it didn’t, it continued to spin as he stole glances out onto the small shop floor where pieces of merchandise continued to organize themselves. 

“Stop doing that,” Seognhwa muttered between grit teeth as the coin spun perpetually on its edge. He was watching it so intently that he hadn’t noticed when the customer approached the counter and wait. There was no indication of the coin slowing or stopping as it spun. 

“Wow, look at it go.” 

The owner slapped his hand down on the coin and looked up at the young man who was piling his selections onto counter. He’d started at Seonghwa’s reaction and gave a slightly awkward chuckle. Soenghwa pushed the coin aside and pulled the items toward him to start ringing up. 

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” He asked, glancing distractedly out onto the floor, afraid that items were still moving around on their own. To his surprise, the customer looked behind him as well as if trying to see what Seonghwa was looking for before turning back to look at him, smiling but a little weirded out. 

“No,” He said. “But you have a lot of unusual ingredients. I’m pretty impressed.” 

To this, Seognhwa gave a short huff of a laugh that almost sounded like a quiet scoff. The answer caught him off guard; and the customer’s choice of words. “Ingredients…What are you looking for, then?” The customer’s eyes narrowed at him as his own had when he thought he was going to have to reorganize the shop. He passed a small package of dried rose petals across the counter to complete his purchase. 

“Something complicated and interested,” The young man said shortly. Seonghwa regretted his outward doubtfulness. He’d offended the customer who regarded him with a raised brow and impatient stare now. He was a shorter person, good looking, pretty even, and his eyes were intense with hardened determination. A soft, almost apologetic smile settled on Seonghwa’s lips and he picked up the bag of dried rose petals. He studied it for a moment before giving the rest of the ingredients a calculating once over. A small green candle stood out and he nodded a bit to himself.

“Making your own luck is complicated and interesting enough,” Seonghwa said as he stepped back from the counter and turned to face a wall of drawers behind him, not dissimilar to an old tea shop. He selected a drawer without much deliberation and scooped some of its contents into a plastic bag and sealed it before turning back around and adding it to his pile of ingredients. 

The customer’s face softened into slight bewilderment and curiosity. “You know what I’m making...But the spell doesn’t call for lavender.” He picked up the small bag and tried to hand it back. Seonghwa lifted a hand to gesture that he should keep it. 

“ _Yours_ doesn’t,” He smirked a little. “Trust me. Luck is delicate. Lavender keeps the rose company. They’ll sustain each other. And don’t use rock salt. Use sea salt instead. And be grateful in your incantation. Make it your own.” He finished ringing up the items and turned the screen to face the customer who regarded him curiously. The slightest smile teased the corners of his mouth before he inserted his card. 

“I make everything my own,” He said after a beat of contemplative silence. “It’s the only way I work..” 

“Work,” Seognhwa chuckled at the idea of creating a luck charm for work. “Well use the sea salt, anyway. Luck is only ever enticed. Never make demands of it.” 

“Oh yeah?” The customer pulled his card sharply from the register and leaned forward. “You know a lot about enticement? What are your credentials?” The question was almost abrasive. Seognhwa’s brows lifted and he was left speechless for a moment and halted him as he placed the items into a paper bag. He lifted his gaze back to the customer, still intense and seemingly aware of how his question had sounded. “What’s your advice worth?” Something fell over out in the shop and while it startled them both, confusing at least the customer, it broke the intensity of the young man’s questioning. 

“At the very least...” Seonghwa folded the top down and handed the young man his items and receipt. “A free bag of lavender.” 

The customer gave a wide smile. Neither of them seemed to notice as little things started straightening themselves out around the store again. After a final beat of puzzled staring the customer lifted a finger in the air and gave it a twirl to indicate the shop. 

“Impressive,” He said again before bringing his fingers to his brow in a salute and turning to leave. Seonghwa shrugged as if this was his thanks and watched him go with a slight tilt of his head. No sooner had the door closed behind the customer did he step away from the counter and stride across the floor to lock it. He spun on his heel then, peering out into his shop with a piercing look.

“Yeosang!” He called out sternly. There was a shift in the atmosphere that impressed a feeling of delight upon Seonghwa. “Do I look amused?” 

Silence. Then a warm breath that shifted his bangs that had been swept over one side of his face. He sighed and closed his eyes to concentrate. The surroundings sounded as if it they were under water for only a moment and when he opened them again the world was a bit dimmer and more washed out than before, save for a bright, glowing boy standing so close to him that he almost teetered backwards on his heels. He was nearly as small as the man who had just left his shop and his hair floated around his lovely face like a golden cloud. Seonghwa didn’t think he’d ever get used to used to this breathtaking specter. It took a moment for his senses to adjust but when they had, the boy was not so blinding and instead had a translucent quality to his form. 

_“You could look a bit more amused,”_ Yeosang said, shifting back from the shop owner who was all but glaring at him. He had a deep voice that sounded as if it were echoing in a vast hallway. He gave endearing shrug of his shoulders and a tiny, shy smile. _“What? I was just cleaning. You LOVE cleaning. Did you know there was a shade in your storeroom?”_

Seonghwa stood stiffly and continued to glare. He would have followed if his feet weren’t rooted in concentration. “You could clean in person instead of doing parlor tricks behind my guest’s back. How many times have I offered-- “

_“--It was just standing there all big and dark and ominous. You think they’re harmless but tell that to me when you fall into a depression and next I check there’s ten shades having a big haunted party in your storeroom. You know your bedroom is right above, it’s spiritually unsanitar--”_

“Yeosang.” Seonghwa brought his palms to either side of Yeosang’s face. There was a hum in the air, a static charge. The shop lights dimmed softly as he willed his hands not to pass through the other. “I’m serious. You should go outside. You have a job here if you want it.” He looked Yeosang over for a moment who barely seemed to be putting up with the Seonghwa’s hands cupping his face. “...You look thin.” 

Yeosang blinked out of Seonghwa’s grip to just out of reach. The humming and dimming of the lights stopped. _“No touching. The energy bill, remember?”_

“You only do this because you know I can’t hold this projection. But I’m coming over and I’m bringing groceries.”

 _“The door is locked and I’m asleep,”_ Yeosang said with a shrug. 

“Then unlock it and wake up. Ramen and bread isn’t food.” 

Yeosang changed the subject. _“Did you read his name? The customer? You should have seen his aura.”_

Seonghwa sighed heavily and rolled his eyes again. “Of course I didn’t. Why would I?” 

_“He was doing a luck spell. A real one. How cute is that?”_

“He’s going to use rock salt and he’ll probably just win a scratch off,” Seonghwa countered, standing still and watching as his spectral friend flitted around the shop, straightening and cleaning, interacting with the physical world. He himself, wasn’t capable of this kind of projection. He was barely holding himself down to have this interaction. The way Yeosang moved, how trails of him swirled off and dissipated like cold licks of flame never ceased to leave Seonghwa a bit in awe. A person who didn’t know better would think he was an angel. Angels, in reality, were terrifying and dangerous, though there was a time that Seonghwa thought the same to be true of his friend. 

_“I disagree. Something tells me that he’s going to take your advice.”_

“Yeosang, I don’t actually care. Are you almost finished? You had better be up when I knock.”

_“You care a little. How often do you get customers who even have a real inkling of the craft, let alone a pretty solid spell. His name is--”_

“Customer. I don’t care. What do you want to eat?” 

_“Because you always give the customer’s free lavender to keep their rose petals company when you’re totally uninterested.” Yeosang crossed the room again, passing through displays until he was standing close to Seonghwa again. “Don’t be so boring. I know you’ve settled for whatever this is but when someone passes up the sage bundles for some real magic that doesn’t involve summoning the devil or burning down a building maybe divine their name so you don’t have to be friends with a ghost forever.”_

Seonghwa frowned down at Yeosang who averted his gaze instinctively as if he’d known what he said would upset him. His hand inched outward cautiously and a hum filled the air again as he clasped the tip of Yeosang’s fingers. “Then don’t be a ghost--”

 _“It’s Hongjoong, by the way. Bring chicken. And ice cream.”_ With a blink Yeosang was gone causing Seonghwa’s legs to buckle as color flooded his vision. 

“Dammit, Yeosang! Send a text next time.” He felt as if he had awoken on a rollercoaster mid-drop. Attempting to orient himself, he opted to sit on the floor for a moment with his back against the door. His powerful friend had not only been holding down his own projection but also Seonghwa. He groaned after several seconds of spinning before dragging himself off the floor and shuffling across the room to perform his closing tasks. 

He had been about to turn out the lights when he noted something on the counter, out of place. It was a small green candle; green for luck. He had forgotten to bag one the materials for the customer...Hongjoong. Dammit, Yeosang. He let out a sigh, or maybe an irritated hiss, not at himself or at the candle but at the information Yeosang had divined from his customer without permission. He rolled the small candle between his fingers thoughtfully before setting it aside instead of reshelving it. In case he came back.

Seonghwa murmured a quiet goodnight to his shop and to the shade peaking its shadowy head out of his store room before leaving to go get his friend some chicken and ice cream. 

\--

In a different shop on a different day Hongjoong turned the page of a very old, delicious smelling tome. Well, not a real tome per say but it was old enough that Hongjoong thought of it as such. The salesperson had asked him to wear gloves and loomed over him like middle aged gargoyle who smelled vaguely of dust and cat urine. The shop itself was...eclectic; Full of oddities, unusual taxidermy, several old books and supposed a cursed object or two. The dim light and cluttered shelving distracted from concerning stains in the ceiling tiles and the fact that it didn’t look as if the floor had been swept since the beginning of time. 

“Of course...it’s not for sale,” The gargoyle said mid-page-turn. Hongjoong frowned and straightened up, turning to look up at the shopkeeper.

“Are you shitting me? Then why do you have it in a store?” He asked setting his hands on his hips. The shopkeeper noticed this and winced.

“Ah...you’ve contaminated the gloves. I’m afraid that’s all I’ll be able to show you.” They swept forward and scooped the book up and out of sight while Hongjoong looked on in shock and disappointment. He pulled the gloves off and followed the shopkeeper as they moved to lock it in the bookcase it had come from. 

“Well, you’re touching it. Hey, I called you weeks ago about this book and I scheduled an appointment for whatever reason! Why wouldn’t it be for sale?” His question was answered with a low chuckle from across the store. Both Hongjoong and the shopkeeper leaned back to peer around the corner of a bookshelf toward the door. They both recognized the customer who had quietly entered the shop. Seonghwa’s hair was swept to the side and he wore a long black coat with a soft grey scarf. A smile lingered on his lips before his eyes locked with Hongjoong’s. It wasn’t a shock. The two businesses looked like night and day but seeing the other shop keeper in this place made perfect sense to Hongjoong. 

“Oh, Mr. Park!” The old gargoyle exclaimed with a level or energy that surprised Hongjoong who was practically shoved out of the way in a hustle to greet the new customer. “I wasn’t expecting you today. How do you do?”

“I’m very well. I don’t have anything to pick up today, it’s just…” He held up a book whose pages were peeling away at the spine, even older looking than the book Hongjoong had been attempting to peruse and in a sorry state. The shopkeeper tutted and gingerly took the book from Seognhwa’s hands and laid it on the counter. It was practically crumbling and the owner cooed over it like an injured animal. 

“Well, it’s not pretty Mr. Park. Not at all. I can fix it but it’s a very rare find. You won’t consider--” 

“It’s not for sale. It belongs to a friend,” Seognhwa was firm but his voice was gentle. Something about the way he held himself was restrained but the way he almost reached forward when the shopkeeper turned the page less gently than he preferred. Even with the owner’s pointed tenderness, Seonghwa was wary of its treatment. Hongjoong looked on for a few more seconds before he glanced back at the bookcase. Had the owner locked it, he wondered. They had sure been in a hurry to greet Seonghwa.

“Keen eye. Dark taste…” The shopkeeper tutted again at the state of the book before straightening up and looking back to Seonghwa. “No worries, Mr. Park. I can whip it into shape. Won’t you stay a few minutes so I may draft an appraisal?” 

“Thank you very much,” Seognhwa bent slightly at the waist and turned away from the shopkeeper to browse. 

Hongjoong took the opportunity to give the knob on the bookshelf a little tug. He sighed heavily when it didn’t budge and placed his hand on the glass over the book he had just been denied. So dramatic. He’d been searching for a long time, burned through two laptops digging around on the scary parts of the internet just for a chance at finding anything like it and here it was...not for sale. 

“What’d I tell you about the rock salt?” Hongjoong flinched and spun around to look up at Seonghwa who was the one looming now. He hadn’t noticed how tall he was on first encounter and he found himself backing up against the bookcase just about. He had a gentle face but there was something intimidating about his stare. Perhaps it was the proximity. Unlike the shopkeeper, he smelled nice? Seonghwa smelled of the way people smelled when cold air clung to them from the outside. Also body wash. And maybe a bit of... 

_“Lavender,”_ He laughed uncomfortably and reached out a tentative hand to give Seonghwa a little poke, indicating that he should step back a little. “What’s with you...type?” He glanced around the corner at the shopkeeper who was diligently examining the book that Seonghwa had brought in. “Standing so close. Wait--are you suggesting that he won’t sell me the book because my spell didn’t work?” 

Seonghwa, who had been looking between Hongjoong and the book over his shoulder, smirked a little and took a step a few steps back. “I’m suggesting your spell didn’t work because you used rock salt.” 

Hongjoong stood up a little straighter, perhaps feeling a bit short beneath Seonghwa’s stare. “Or maybe, Lavender, my spell didn’t work because I was missing some materials. Hang on...is this a real conversation? Are we talking about spells?” That was kind of exciting, actually. Hongjoong was a researcher, and he believed but he didn’t know very many believers. Seonghwa was staring over his shoulder again. “Hey, what do you know about this book?” He asked gesturing back with his thumb. 

“I know its a new edition and largely stripped of its useful information. All theory, no practice,” Seonghwa shrugged a little and turned away. “Luckily.” 

Hongjoongs scoffed and zipped in front of Seonghwa. He was fast. “What does that mean?” 

“Well, can you imagine if people were successfully able to summon chaos entities? It would be Revelations,” Seonghwa stepped around Hongjoong to pick up an odd sphere, turning it over in his hands. Hongjoong watched him, a bit stunned. Was this man for real? He looked the other once or twice, trying to find something he had missed, something that would give him the answer to a question he was having a hard time placing. 

“You just said that like it wasn’t the most impossible thing you’ve ever heard.” Hongjoong turned to lean against the display case that Seonghwa was standing near in an attempt to make eye contact with him. When Seonghwa turned his head in a pointed effort to avoid his gaze, Hongjoong lifted a confused eyebrow. “You’re kind of a weirdo, aren’t you?”

“You didn’t agree with me about chaos entities,” Seonghwa set down an item he had been examining and gave Hongjoong the attention he was seeking. “It didn’t put you off in the slightest.” 

“You know, most people just call them demons. And why write a book on something that isn’t meant to be successful?” 

“Why use rock salt instead of sea salt?”

“Because I’m aggressive and I want the universe to know it.” Hongjoong didn’t miss a beat, practically cutting off the end of Seonghwa’s question. He was smirking but everything about the way he spoke said he meant it. It gave Seonghwa pause. A beat of silence passed between them. Hongjoong could feel Seonghwa studying him, evidently intrigued by his reasoning. It was hard to tell whether or not he approved and Hongjoong was almost uncomfortable enough to break the silence when Seonghwa’s hand extended toward him. 

“Park Seonghwa,” He said. Hongjoong reached out and gripped his outstretched hand. It was so warm, hot almost. Just as he opened his mouth to give his own name, he thought he saw a flicker in Seonghwa’s eyes, as if it had briefly reflected something back at him; not a metaphorical spark but a real one.What the hell? He found himself learning forward to look, a small frown set on his brow as he continued to grasp the other’s hand. That was until Seonghwa’s own brow raised slightly, inquisitive, perhaps feeling a bit uncomfortable now, himself. 

“Uh!” He quickly let go of Seonghwa’s hand. “Kim Hongjoong.” 

“Hmm,” The other smiled lightly, before glancing over at the locked bookcase. Hongjoong did the same but with longing in his features. “I don’t know what you’re looking for but that book is not worth your time. Maybe all you need is the luck, hm?” 

"Mr. Park," The shopkeeper interjected from the front counter, plucking an invoice sheet from a notepad, "I think this should do it." 

“Well, I do know what I’m looking for,” Hongjoong interjected after Seognhwa nodded and stepped away from the display case. “And it includes that green candle on my receipt.” 

“I have no doubt.” Seonghwa went to retrieve his invoice with thanks. 

“I’m coming back for that candle, Lavender!” Hongjoong called after him just as he was about to exit the shop. Seonghwa glanced back with a gentle farewell nod before ducking out the door. Hongjoong was once again left alone with the shopkeep, whom he shot a sour look. In one hand he still clutched the gloves that he had been wearing to look at the book. 

“Got anymore gloves?”


	2. Sigils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He reflected on his brief visit for only a moment before turning to look back at the shop he’d just left. The facade was the same. Nothing about the way it looked today was different from any other day but now…? This was a completely different place. Hongjoong had walked into a shop and left a different planet. 
> 
> “What the _fuck_?” "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is still primarily a SeongJoong fic (lolol BD, wrote this before adding more chapters. Seongjoong slow burn)

Slush squished loudly beneath Seonghwa’s feet as he walked in silence. The streets were practically deserted this late at night, especially so when the weather had been so abysmal earlier in the day. Even predictable bar patrons seemed to be avoiding the wet, freezing aftermath of an even wetter, colder day. Seonghwa would be miserable if it weren’t for his companion sharing the experience of the trudge for late night dim sum.

Yeosang was barely visible beneath his winter layers: at least two coats, a very soft long scarf that Seonghwa had gifted him for the holidays and a hat that gave the impression of a mushroom cap. The way he clutched his phone through overly long coat sleeves made Seonghwa somewhat nervous that he might drop it, but mostly endeared by the adorable visual. They walked side by side quietly, every once in a while sliding on a patch of muddy slush and reaching out the snag the other’s arm for balance. Their silence was comfortable but Seonghwa knew this outing was largely for him even when he insisted fresh air was for Yeosang’s benefit. It was rare that his friend left his apartment, at least in the flesh. 

So it was a slight to the mood and to his efforts when they drew nearer to their destination and he couldn’t locate the familiar, neon “open” sign that used to aggressively flash out onto the walkway. The inviting warm glow their usual spot now had darkened windows. The pair stopped in front of the former entrance, now padlocked and chained with metal grated exterior door. It looked as if it had been closed for a while and that the weather had nothing to do with it. 

“Damn...” Seonghwa glanced down at Yeosang, whose shoulders slumped, dejected, as they stood alone on a darkened street. He had been the one to pick the restaurant and Seonghwa could see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes peeking out from the opening between his hat and scarf.

“It’s my fault. I should have checked. I didn’t know it closed down…” 

“Yeosang…” Seonghwa frowned. He sounded so disappointed and genuinely sorry. It was difficult to get his friend out of his house. Getting him to go anywhere that wasn’t the shop, let alone out to eat was a feat all on it’s own. He didn’t think he was going to be able to convince Yeosang to go elsewhere for dinner but tried not to let his fear of this show. “I’ll cook. It won’t be dim sum but--”

“No, I just want to go home,” Yeosang turned on his heel without a thought but Seonghwa was quicker. He leaned over and snatched at a hand hidden in one of Yeosang’s enormous coat sleeves and pulled him back. They were cold, a little wet and a little tired. It didn’t exactly surprise him that Yeosang was taking it hard, feeling as if he had wasted time and effort. Sometimes Yeosang wasn’t just hard on himself, he was harsh. Seonghwa’s heavy sigh evolved into a low grumble of frustration as he pulled his friend tightly against him. “Nuh, Stob,” came Yeosang’s muffled voice while simultaneously leaning into him. 

“Thank you for coming out with me. I know it wasn’t an ideal day,” Seonghwa squeezed him sincerely and Yeosang just shrugged. 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m with you all the time.”

He knew what Yeosang meant, of course, and frequently wondered how often and _where_ Yeosang lurked while he was projecting. Sometimes he suspected Yeosang spent more time out of body than the physical plane. “And yet, I miss you.”

“That’s your problem,” Yeosang leaned back a little with a somewhat smug expression. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, an opportunity Seonghwa was not about to miss. He rolled his eyes at the statement and lifted a hand to run his finger down the bridge of Yeosang’s nose. He smiled, pleased by the shift in his friend’s expression, watched as his gazed unfocused and his eyelids drooped a little. Releasing Yeosang from the embrace he lifted his other hand and rubbed both thumbs over his cheeks. Yeosang’s head rolled backwards as he leaned heavily into Seonghwa. The tips of his fingers glowed a soft red as they traced the features of Yeosang’s face, trails of low light lingering behind as he spread warmth over the surface. After a few moments Yeosang’s hands emerged from their hiding within his sleeves to take Seonghwa’s hands and pull them inside, the soft glow lighting up from within his coat. 

Seonghwa laughed, Yeosang’s elbows in his grip, and his friend made a sound somewhere between delight and irritation. “You give up so easily when you’re cold.”

“You think you’re so cool,” Yeosang groaned, letting his eyes drift closed. “You’re just a witch with hot hands.” 

“Excuse me, I am a gifted pyromancer,” Seonghwa feigned offense and Yeosang’s eyes fluttered open just so that he could roll them. 

“And yet you sit in that shop all day selling luck charms to overly curious demonologists. Ironically, heh.” No sooner had Yeosang finished his sentence did he suddenly bite down on his lip, regret replacing his blissful expression. 

Seonghwa tensed. He hadn’t meant to, he was usually good at hiding his reactions even if it didn’t work on Yeosang more than half the time. Already Yeosang was try to slip from his hands, and he held firmly to the other’s elbows. “ _It’s fine_ ,” He promised, trying to close the space that was already forming between them. But there was shame in his friend’s face as he lowered his gaze. “Yeosang, I’m not offended.” 

“No, I’m being...stupid. It’s not funny or ironic. Your shop is nice and I’m--” Yeosang was cut off by a soft, warm kiss to the corner of his mouth and his cheeks and nose were red all over again, filling with their own heat this time. Seonghwa leaned back to look down at him, gauging his face for a reaction. He was frowning, stunned and moderately troubled. Not what Seonghwa had been expecting, honestly. “Uhm...? You can’t...do that?” 

“Well, I’m hungry. And the longer we stand out here talking about how stupid you are, the hungrier I get.” Seonghwa couldn’t tell if his smooth excuse and shot at humor was landing well with Yeosang whose fingers had drifted upward to touch the spot his lips where Seonghwa had kissed him.. He seemed contemplative, a troubled knot lingering on his brow. Before the lack of response could become too awkward, Seonghwa felt compelled to speak again. “Should I have not--” 

“You have to let me apologize sometimes,” This time, he was the one being interrupted. Seonghwa sighed but couldn’t, himself, discern if it was out of relief or preparation for a cyclical conversation they’d yet to have seen resolution to. “For small things, for stupid things. I know you’re never going to tell me what you’re thinking so let me cover my bases sometimes, Seonghwa. Let me...help myself feel less guilty. About myself...and about what happened.” 

“Okay,” Seonghwa said, quickly and with a hint of anxiety. “I don’t want to talk about what happened.I like my new life. I like that I’m a shopkeeper and that the most complicated thing I have to do each day is check my store room for ghosts and shades. I’m moving on and I..wish you were with me for it. You’re worried about me being bored but I’m worried about you in general _all_ the time so...” He spoke quickly and allowed himself to taper off in the place of a deep breath. He hadn’t noticed how he was staring at their feet through the narrow space between them until Yeosang’s cool fingertips lifted his chin. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” He said, likely to have already deciphered everything Seonghwa had just said. Seonghwa closed his eyes and his head became heavy in Yeosang’s hands but the other wasn’t about to let it drop again. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t acknowledged the peace you’ve found. I’m sorry that we’re out here when its cold and icy and the stupid restaurant is shut down. I should have checked.” Seonghwa was sincerely fighting the urge to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing to be sorry for when he felt a warm pressure at the corner of _his_ mouth and then again directly to his lips; a proper kiss. 

He cupped the cool hands framing his face and pressed lightly into Yeosang’s kiss while his anxiety over the moment gradually dissipated. A long-time tension that had kept them from moments like this seemed to ease a little when Seognhwa broke away to leaned his forehead against Yeosang’s. Between their lips touching and parting was a conversation that they should have already had long ago but knew they probably never would. Quiet reflection followed and Seonghwa warmed them both as the night air nipped at them. The dipping and fall of wet snow from the trees had awnings had slowed and were replaced by the crackling of ice taking over. They both could have stayed like this for a long time but Seonghwa would rather do it inside. 

“Also!” He said abruptly, stepping to the side to tuck Yeosang under his arm, indicating that he’d like to keep walking. “He’s not a demonologist. He's smart and enthusiastic but something about his taste in summoning materials tells me his interests aren’t lined with very many cautionary tales.”

“Sounds familiar.” Yeosang shuffled his feet before he began to trudge along, nudging Seonghwa’s side a bit. “Perhaps he’s looking for a coven...Or a cult.” 

“No he’s just...arrogant. He knows his herbs, his minerals and sediments. I saw a complex alchemical symbol on his shopping list last he stopped in. He wants something intense but he’s so..lighthearted about it.” Seonghwa looked thoughtful but Yeosang couldn’t help but to squint, unconvinced. 

“Sounds like a nerd. A dangerous one.” 

“Dangerous,” Seognhwa scoffed a bit. “It’s not that dramatic.” 

“Coveting a book where the base ritual ingredients involve hellfire and the last ritual involves tearing a hole in reality is dangerous. You’d be very useful to him, Seonghwa. Don’t underestimate Hongjoong.” Seonghwa could feel their feet dragging as Yeosang reasoned with him. He almost sounded serious and concerned and Seonghwa didn’t disagree with any of it but he was hungry and cold and reluctant to expend any more energy on talk of dark witchcraft and his new patron’s dubious interests. The potential for this evolving into an argument was palpable.

“I have no intention of using my hellfire for anything other than to be your personal space heater.” He squeezed his shoulder a little but was met with silence. He glanced down but could only make out Yeosang’s pink nose between the hat and scarf. His friend was contemplating, perhaps even fretting. If he pressed about it after the conversational turns their night had taken there was a chance he’d end up walking him home instead. Luckily, Yeosang spoke first. 

“I want it.” 

“What?” 

“I want that job you keep trying to give me. I want to work in your shop.” Seonghwa stopped completely, facing Yeosang with an incredulous expression. “No. I really do. I think I could use a routine and you...a helping hand. And the way I look in an apron is actually to die for so...I’m taking the job.” 

“This is sudden, Yeosang.” 

“It’s been a long night--No,” Yeosang straightened up a little. “It’s been a long couple of years and...maybe your place is a good place to start...going places again. I’ll do tarot readings to give it a little bit of _authenticity_.” He struck a frankly adorable pose indicating how ridiculous the idea of being an in shop fortune teller was. Seonghwa wouldn’t put it past him to be at least a little serious and cringed a little. 

“Did you forget about the commute? I hope you’re not pushing yourself so that you can keep an eye on my patrons. I know you already do it from home.” 

“You’re not taking care of me anymore, Seonghwa. We’re taking care of each other...like it was supposed to be. Your apartment is above the shop and if the commute becomes a problem then I know where I can stay.” The logic was hard to argue with but it did little to ease Seonghwa’s concerns. Impulse hadn’t been a part of either of their lives for years and Yeosang clearly wasn’t trying to hide his motivations. Seonghwa bit his lip thoughtfully and in the moment he inhaled to speak his words died on his tongue. 

Yeosang had noticed it before he did, his assertive gaze having suddenly given way to pallor. Seonghwa felt as if something were crawling up his spine, a copper taste filling his mouth. A hum and a pulse, cracking in the dark distance, the unmistakable sound their wet surroundings quickly freezing over. Yeosang pawed frantically at his own scarf and tugged a pendant from beneath the layers, a symbol of simple lines and curves. Etchings along the metal token glinted brighter than the material itself. Seonghwa slapped his hand to his own chest, his eyes filled with horror and guilt. The snapping of ice was becoming not-so distant, joined by a thrumming and an eerie sigh carried by the wind

“Your sigil,” Yeosang breathed, urgently. Seonghwa was already shaking his head his mouth agape, unable to form an apology or a plan. Yeosang stared at him, wide-eyed and in disbelief. Their surroundings were growing darker while the thrumming and snapping grew louder. Street lamps and business lights flickered and died. “It’s his hour. It’s him.” There was no time for Yeosang to scold him but it was clear to both of them that this was Seonghwa’s fault.

“We need to run.” Seonghwa snatched Yeosang’s hand and gave it an urgent tug and almost immediately slipped on a newly formed patch of ice. Yeosang barely steadied him before yanking his hand away. 

“Too late.” Yeosang lifted his arms in the air and touched the tips of his index fingers together. Seonghwa grabbed his shoulder. 

“I’ll do it!” 

“He’ll _TRACK_ you,” Yeosang shrugged the hand off his shoulder then inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. The lights around them had all but one flickered out and the sigh which commingled with the thrumming and the cracking had become a whisper circling Seonghwa’s head. He struggled to maintain a focused vision, the world sliding and foreshortening around him. He thought he caught a glint of red beneath the last working lamp post. Trying to steady himself through the heavy assault on his senses, he recognized the glint of red as a pair of eyes set atop a wispy shadow just outside the light of the last remaining lamp. 

“San…” He breathed, and it sprinted forward, swallowing the last of the light as it passed through. The fear that gripped him when the whispers in either ear exploded into a cacophony of howls was enough to send him crashing to his knees. He reached for Yeosang but his fingers caught air. The glinting red eyes surging toward them passed out of view and Seonghwa thought vaguely that he couldn’t see the sky before a flash of blue light blinded him and the ground gave way beneath. A split second of weightlessness and a hard crash was the last thing that Seonghwa felt before losing consciousness.

\--

Hongjoong looked like a small bear that had just wandered out of its cave, bundled in an oversized faux fur coat and hood.His hands were warmed by a mid-sized, covered ceramic bowl which he cradled against him almost protectively. He had been coming around to Seonghwa’s shop for several weeks now, never having been disappointed. It had become quite the regular stop for him. He liked the atmosphere, the products and just maybe he also liked the company. Sometimes he found that if he mentioned something he was looking for, Seonghwa would have a small supply of it by his next visit. He was so attentive and for no reason that Hongjoong could surmise other than that they were becoming friends. 

An unexpected second and unexpected storm had stuck overnight leaving much of the city covered in several inches of snowfall, burying the soggy mess from the day before. Some parts of the city had even completely frozen over but on this street, many businesses had shoveled their walks and were open for business. Seonghwa’s shop stood alone, piled up alone the store front, seamless and undisturbed even at the door. It surprised Hongjoong that the hardworking shop owner would have left his shop closed for the day when everyone else was business as usual. He looked down at the bowl at the bowl in his hands and scrunched his nose a bit. Was he disappointed?

He glanced to the upper windows, darkened with the curtains and squinted at something he couldn’t quite make out on the glass. Something caught his attention in the shop display, a symbol in the corner of the glass pane, just barely visible to anyone not looking for it. It had been so finely carved that Hongjoong had been mistaking it for snow crystals. He reached out, about to trace the circular sigal with his fingers but stopped short, opting to pull his phone from his pocket, balancing the bowl on his hip to take a picture instead. 

The shop definitely looked closed, being so dark inside that he could barely see anything. But Hongjoong tested the door anyway, surprised to feel some give when he pulled. He kicked at the snow hindering him until he could pull the door open wide enough to slip inside, trying not to scoop in the elements when dragged it closed again. When he turned to face the interior of the shop, his jaw dropped. It looked as if someone dropped a bomb on the center displays. Product littered the floor, broken bottles, small boxes, herbs and powdered all seemingly unsalvageable. The shelving was warped and shattered, leaning against the walls or topped to their sides as if having been forced outward. Glass crunched beneath Hongjoong’s boots, scattered to every corner of the little shop. 

“...Holy shit,” He swore, a tightness immediately forming in his chest. He stared, dumbfounded, turning in small circles while trying to fathom what had happened. Had Seonghwa been robbed? Was he ok? What...was that smell? He could barely place it, like burning ozone before a lightning strike. It left him feeling slightly nauseated and he crouched to set the bowl on the floor, pushing back his hood. What the hell had happened here? The creaking of floorboards and a shuffled at the back of the shop startled him and he stood up quickly.

“Seonghwa,” He called, hopefully and moved to take a step further into the shop. A step later, the breath was completely knocked out of him and Hongjoong found himself dazed, staring up at the ceiling from wreckage on the floor. He groaned, wincing as the air returned to his lungs and was instantly grateful that his heavy fur coat had cushioned his fall into the glass. Some unseen force had knocked the crap out of him fear crept in to mingle with Hongjoong’s confusion.The gritty sound of footsteps approached cautiously and he lifted his head to make out a figure standing in the dark behind the counter. 

“What are you doing here?” They asked him, their voice too deep, their shoulders too narrow to be Seonghwa. Hongjoong was already reaching for his pocketed phone but no sooner had he had it in his hand did it fly from his fingers as if attached to the end of an invisible string. “Get out.” The voice commanded and finally Hongjoong forced himself to sit up, scowling into the dark, trying to get a better view of the stranger. He could make him out a bit better now that he wasn’t lying on the floor. 

The young man struck Hongjoong as small, though they couldn’t have been much different from one another in stature. There were a few cuts on his face.He looked tired and disheveled and like he very much needed to sit down. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattoos in a line up either arm, sigils not dissimilar to the that of the one Hongjoong had seen on the outside of the shop. Whatever had happened here, had something to do with this person.

“No,” Hongjoong shot back, getting to his feet. “I’m not leaving. What the fuck happened here? Where is Seonghwa and who the hell are you?” 

The man opted not to answer him and lifted his arms above his head, touching his index fingers together. The air sparked where his fingertips touched and the smell of ozone invaded Hongjoong’s senses again. Hongjoong’s mouth fell open again, dumbstruck as the person behind the counter let his fingers part, drawing downward, following the path of a half circle as blue light trailed from his fingertips. 

“ _Yeosang_ ,” Another voice, thick and hoarse barked from a hallway that led further back into the building, beside the store room door. The blue sparks dissipated and the young man, Yeosang, dropped his hands. Both he and Hongjoong turned similar concerned expressions to Seonghwa, who leaned against the wall, gripping his side with one arm. The other arm supported him but was bandaged, his sleeve rolled to expose the wrappings that extended to his elbow. If this Yeosang looked like hell then Seonghwa looked like death. The cuts to his face were small but numerous. He looked sick and exhausted and swayed on his feet, as he leveled a dark look at the person who had just been doing something Hongjoong had not yet processed. 

“Oh my god,” He took a step in the direction of the shopkeeper but Seonghwa raised a hand in gentle protest. Hongjoong stopped but Yeosang had closed the distance between them quickly, placing himself under Seonghwa’s shoulder like a crutch, though he barely seemed strong enough to hold himself up at the moment. 

“You’re supposed to sleep,” Yeosang’s words were so soft that they were barely audible to Hongjoong. His own anxiety increased by the moment but so did the awkward feeling of intrusion as Seonghwa and this person shared an exchange that he couldn’t hear. Yeosang was shaking his head bearing up into Seonghwa, their faces close as the shop owner whispered something. Yeosang didn’t seem assured but after a moment he released Seonghwa and crossed his arms, allowing him to step away from the wall. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa addressed him. Hongjoong flinched. He shouldn’t have. The shop owner’s tone was so friendly it was almost affectionate. But he was feeling a type of fear, a concern for his own self the longer he stood in the presence of Seonghwa’s friend. Seonghwa’s gentle tone did nothing to ease Hongjoong’s confusion or anxiety. Seonghwa stumbled forward and he found his own arms reaching out to offer support. 

“I’m afraid you’ve come on a bad day,” Seonghwa said. 

“You fucking think?” Hongjoong’s voice cracked in exasperation. Seonghwa crossed to the floor to him, connecting with Hongjoong’s outstretched fingertips. Instead of stopping, he pressed Hongjoong backward toward the door. “Wait...Seonghwa. You need to call the authorities. You and your friend need to go to a hospital.” He didn’t know where to put his hands, afraid to touch him anywhere that he might be hurt, afraid to touch him in general for the look that Yeosang was giving him from behind the counter. 

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Seonghwa said, herding Hongjoong slowly backward. Had he the energy to be more assertive, he might have. “I promise, I’m alright. The shop is closed for today though, so--”

“ _Stop_ ,” Hongjoong pressed his hands firmly into Seonghwa’s shoulders who did, in fact, stop, his head lolling forward a little.”You look like shit. You need help. What _happened_?” Up close, his exhaustion was ingrained in every feature of his face. A cut across his nose was still bleeding a bit and worry compelled Hongjoong to lift a hand toward it. Seonghwa caught his hand and gave him a sad, sleepy smile without releasing his grip. Hongjoong blinked several times, staring at their hands momentarily before looking back at Seonghwa expectantly. He wanted an answer.

“You think I look like shit?” 

Hongjoong jerked his hand away. “This is _not_ funny. I’m--” He hesitated, glancing over Seonghwa’s shoulder to Yeosang who continued to watch from behind the counter. “...I’m afraid,” He admitted, practically whispering. Seonghwa’s attempt at an assuring look settled into something much more solemn. He reached out and took the hand that Hongjoong had yanked away again. A strange knot formed in Hongjoong’s stomach. To say they weren’t friends, that Hongjoong didn’t enjoy stopping in just to see Seonghwa would be a lie. But the way he held his hand...Hongjoong tried not to think about the feeling it left him with amid the worry and confusion. Seonghwa was not in his usual state, after all. 

Seonghwa leaned forward and Hongjoong thought that he might be teetering over so instinctively he offered himself as leverage. This was bizarre; Nowhere near how he thought his day would go. A breath tickled his ear, causing Hongjoong to tense almost painfully. 

“I’m glad you’re afraid. You should be afraid.” Seonghwa’s voice was only just above a whisper but he had spoken so closely to Hongjoong that he’d almost pushed the other man away. And his words...It wasn’t a threat. Seonghwa sounded pained and Hongjoong couldn’t tell if it was the sentiment or if he was in actual pain. “Fear keeps you safe.” 

It was almost a beat too long before Hongjoong found his voice again and tried to meet his eyes, but Seonghwa’s eyes were half closed and he was becoming heavier. “I don’t understand. Please...this is ridiculous. Let me help you.” 

“Hongjoong,” He let go of Hongjoong’s hand to plant his own on the other man’s shoulder, pushing him back just a little, conjuring enough strength to straightened up. He winced in a way that had Hongjoong shaking his head. “I’m sorry about the state of the store. I hope you’ll come back another time so that I can make it up to you.” 

“I’m not here to buy anything! I was just bringing…” He looked over at the bowl he’d left on the floor. It’s probably cold. He sighed heavily. It seemed stupid now. _This_ was stupid. Seonghwa glanced at the bowl as well and seemed confused by it. 

“A potion?”

“A wha--No? No.” Hongjoong frowned, shaking his head and looking away. Now for embarrassment. “It’s Soup. Because it’s cold. I…Seonghwa, I’m so confused. This isn’t right. _Look_ at this place.” 

Seonghwa was still staring at the bowl of soup on the floor, seemingly not listening now. Hongjoong looked to Yeosang, not caring if he was a magical stranger that had appeared to threaten him earlier. He was silently pleading for an explanation. But Seonghwa’s friend was staring at the back of his head, sending silent pleas of his own that Seonghwa’s dazed state wasn’t indicative of a deeper problem, something they might need a hospital for. It was evident that the grip on Hongjoong’s shoulders was less authoritative and more likely for balance. 

“That’s very kind of you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa finally said, smiling wearily and returned a gaze that was becoming glassier by the moment. “I look forward to it. Please...Come back later.”

“You should do as he says,” Yeosang spoke up again. He had had enough and honestly it showed in his worn, dark expression. And honestly, with Seonghwa’s all but outright refusal, Hongjoong didn’t know what more he could do. Unfortunately, it all appeared to be very personal. Hongjoong was intruding. 

With a final glance between them, Hongjoong carefully shifted to step away. Seonghwa was stable enough to release his shoulders, but only just. He hung his head, pushing away the reluctance to leave an injured man to his business and turned for the door. Mid-step, Seonghwa reached out to grip his hand. Again. A firm squeeze, a gentle tug. Hongjoong lifted his head when Seonghwa didn’t immediately address him and didn’t let go of his hand. As if it weren’t strange enough that Seonghwa was holding it, the way he looked at Hongjoong…

Finally, he turned Hongjoong’s hand over, poising an index finger over his palm to trace a shape or symbol that he couldn’t be seen against his skin. He paused, and for whatever he was doing Hongjoong got a sense of incompletion. Abruptly, Seonghwa drew back his finger, brow furrowing as he spread Hongjoong’s digits to flatten out his hand. He brushed a few fingers over Hongjoong’s palm again, examining something Hongjoong could not see before turning his own palm over to view them side by side. 

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong was concerned again. 

“Seonghwa,” Yeosang echoed from behind, having crept closer from his place behind the counter. The shop owner shifted his observational stare from their hands to Hongjoong’s face, locking eyes more intensely than he’d been prepared for. He leaned forward, clearly searching, and Hongjoong couldn’t keep himself from shrinking away.

“ _Seonghwa_ ,” Yeosang said again, grasping his shoulder gently. Seonghwa seemed as if he were going to say something and hesitated to break eye contact. Hongjoong wished he would. A bit more pressure on his shoulder from Yeosang and he did, tracing whatever he had traced before back over Hongjoong’s palm quickly. He pressed the hand between his own and when he let go Hongjoong was holding the phone that had been mysteriously snatched from his grasp earlier. 

He looked up, so wide-eyed that he looked like a toddler whose uncle had just pulled a coin from behind his ear. Dumbfounded silence followed before Seonghwa huffed in a way that could only be construed as a laugh. He winked and brought a finger to his lips briefly, then his hand dropped to his side. Yeosang looked deeply unimpressed, almost furious, even as Seognhwa stumbled back into him. Hongjoong was would feel bad later about being too stunned in the moment to at least offer Yeosang a helping hand. He just stood there, overwhelmed and entirely lost.

“It’s time for you to go, now,” He thought he heard Yeosang say. He mumbled something and by the time he was even considering to fathom what Seognhwa had just done, what Yeosang had been _about_ to do before Seonghwa interrupted him, Hongjoong was standing on the outside of the shop again. A stranger crossed in front of him and he nearly jumped out of his skin, dropping his phone all over again which earned him a weird look as he quickly stooped to pick it up. 

Upon standing and the pedestrian passing, clarity (or _something_ ) cashed down upon him. He reflected on his brief visit for only a moment before turning to look back at the shop he’d just left. The facade was the same. Nothing about the way it looked today was different from any other day but now…? This was a completely different place. Hongjoong had walked into a shop and left a different planet. 

“What the _fuck_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, friendships can be complicated, am I right?  
> Thank you for sticking through Chapter 2! I'll get the hang of this fic writing thing, yet. 
> 
> If you found this through Ao3 and want to see occasional art about it:  
> Twitter: [BadDreamsBS](https://twitter.com/BadDreamsBS)


	3. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So...Am I supposed to die or…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which B.D is not opposed to using a dream sequence to get a little spicy.
> 
> This is not the original CH.3 (which will now become CH.4). I just wanted to write some spicy SeongJoong but it's a part of the story now so...

Hongjoong had never seen such opulence. The richness of every color in the room took his breath away. The lower candle lighting, an enormous crystal chandelier, and gilded wall papering fit for palaces.The deep mahoganies of ornate end tables, the shimmering stitching in the upholstery of the two love seats facing each other in the center of the room. Every time he looked away to observe something, it changed. A fireplace would be a fountain, a chair would be a chaise sofa. At one moment the rug would be victorian and the next, it would be Persian. The only consistent features of the room were the floor to impossibly-tall-ceiling blood-red drapes that blocked out all external light from the room. 

That he found himself in this impossible room didn’t bother Hongjoong, nor did the changing details of his surroundings. He’d been here many times now, over several nights. Most times he was that he was alone, he found that he could pass through doors into unknown places of which his memory would always fade. But sometimes there were no doors and he was not always alone. 

It could be just a feeling, a presence or a small disembodied greeting from the corner of the room. It could be a set of long, gentle fingers combing through his hair, the owner of which would always be in his peripheral, just out of sight. The presence, at other times, the rhythm of another heartbeat, another’s breathing in time with his own, an intimate sensation that overtook him and drown out the room entirely and the impression that he was sharing it with someone else. And sometimes, like this time, his companion was visible and altogether tangible and it was _always_ Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa was always dressed in a way that fit whatever this room happened to be. So was Hongjoong, for that matter. He quite liked the fit of his own mid thigh top coat, the silver and black woven fabric standing out against the rest of his black attire. A sharp and shiny wingtip dress shoe completed a very fine but simple look. Seonghwa was sitting casually on a bright red Georgian style loveseat which had only just a moment ago been a single chair of the same style. His hair was pushed back, but for a few stray strands and he was wearing a midnight blue blouse with gently ruffled cuffs and a high collar that was tied with a large, draping bow. His slacks were high and hugged his slender waist. 

Hongjoong approached him slowly, observing as he shuffled through what looked to be a deck of tarot cards. Seonghwa never noticed him. Even if he sat next to him, or attempted to touch a part of him, his shoulder, his arm...his hair. Hongjoong wondered if he was a ghost once or twice, if that was why he came to this place. Every now and again if he sat close, Seonghwa would close his eyes and sigh, tilting his head in Hongjoong’s direction. It struck him as some sort of invitation which Hongjoong never accepted. He sat next to him again this time, and leaned over a little to watch Seonghwa’s long fingers sift through his cards. He frowned a little. 

They were blank. Hongjoong saw nothing on the cards and yet Seonghwa lingered on each one like he was studying it closely. He shifted his attention to his face, watching as his expression changed between curiosity, understanding and acceptance. Maybe the cards were only meant for him. Observing Seonghwa’s face so closely, Hongjoong had become distracted by subtler things; How slowly he would blink when he was thinking, the curvature of his nose, a very slight pucker of on his lips.

Hongjoong puckered his own lips and lifted his chin to blow softly on the side of Seonghwa's face. There was no indication that he had felt it at all. He blew again, this time near his ear. Seonghwa's fingers paused in their shuffling and he sat there momentarily as if waiting before flipping to the next card. Success? Hongjoong wondered. He smirked a little and lowered his head to perch his chin on Seonghwa's shoulder. He studied his profile, looking for any indication that he had alerted Seonghwa to his presence. Seonghwa's focus didn't waver again. As far as Hongjoong knew, he was still a ghost. 

"Jeez, Lavender," He huffed, pouting a little against Seonghwa's shoulder. "What gets your attention?" 

Seonghwa really couldn't see him. Hongjoong found himself wishing that he could. The first couple of times had been a curious situation, one which Hongjoong had explored in a loud and obnoxious manner. Now it was just a little frustrating. Hongjoong lifted his head off Seonghwa's shoulder and leaned in close to the other's ear. 

“Seonghwa,” He whispered to no reaction. He pressed his face so close his mouth was nearly touching Seonghwa’s ear. “ _Hey, Seonghwa._ ”

Hongjoong felt the other shutter beside him. He craned his head around to find that Seonghwa’s eyes were closed and he had a slight crease in his brow. There was a tenseness in his neck and shoulders and he noticed that his foot bounced for a moment. He looked like an irritated cat trying to meditate away an annoying human. This made Hongjoong smile but he felt a little guilty at the same time. 

“Oh no. I’m sorry,” Hongjoong laughed and brought a hand to rub his thumb against the side of Seonghwa’s face. The expression was...ridiculously cute and that thought made his chest flutter a bit and the smile wavered on his lips. It wasn’t the first time he had thought of Seonghwa as cute. It wasn’t even the first time he had thought of him as more than just cute, but every time he did, Hongjoong felt his general confidence dwindling. Confusion was cruel to him in this way. 

Seonghwa wasn’t frowning anymore and had returned to his cards. Hongjoong found his gaze wandering down his figure. The high snug waist accentuated the elegance of his form and left a clear picture of Seonghwa’s shape in his mind. ‘Pretty’ is the word that to Hongjoong. It didn’t help that Seonghwa’s sense of fashion was so fine. Between the cut of his slacks and the shining silk of his blouse, he looked like a deep space flower. He resisted a compulsion to touch his midsection, to study Soenghwa’s contours with his hands. It would be going too far.  
“God damn, Lavender,” He gave an exasperated sigh and lowered his mouth to Seonghwa’s shoulder as if he were going to kiss it. He didn’t though, instead opting to rest his forehead there. Maybe it was a good thing that Seonghwa couldn’t see him.

“Hm…” Seonghwa had pulled another card. Hongjoong looked down and was surprised to see an image there. As tender as the image was, the shrouded waif of a being in flowing back robes, holding in their arms a pale man wrapped in a clean cloth who looked to be serenely sleeping, anyone would recognize Death. 

“Bad omen…” Hongjoong muttered softly to himself. Seonghwa let out a light chuckle through his nose and rolled his head over to look at Hongjoong who immediately straightened up and leaned away. 

“It’s not my card,” Seonghwa said with a slight shrug. He held it out to Hongjoong who was looking between his hand and his face, bewildered. Had Seonghwa known he was there this entire time? _The ENTIRE time?_ His eyes were pleading, looking for any sign from Seonghwa that he hadn’t known he was there, that he couldn’t see him and...feel him. But Seonghwa only smiled and held the card out to him, waving it a little in indication that Hongjoong should take it. Tentatively, he did so, trying to steal a glance at the rest of the desk which still appeared as blank to him. He examined the card for a long, quiet moment before looking back up at Seonghwa. _Act normal_.

“So...Am I supposed to die or…” 

Seonghwa shifted on the love seat, draping his arm over the back and angling himself toward Hongjoong. He slid over until there was little space between himself, Hongjoong and the arm of the loveseat. Hongjoong tried not to look as flustered as this made him feel. It would be hard to believe though, given the way he was arching back over the arm of the seat. Seonghwa was looking down at the card in his hand again, still smiling.

“Death doesn’t always mean death,” He said. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in skepticism. Seonghwa broke into a wide smile and laughed a laugh that elated Hongjoong and left a fluttering in his chest. “You don’t believe me.” 

“I’m waiting for a better explanation,” Hongjoong prompted. Seonghwa reached over and pinched the card as Hongjoong did, running his fingers down the edge until their hands were resting against one another’s and they held the card together. Hongjoong huffed a sigh through his nose that the had not meant to and Seonghwa seemed to respond by leaning his cheek against his shoulder. 

“Sometimes, Death is just change,” Seonghwa explained. “An upheaval in your life, a drastic shift in expectations. The end of one thing but...the beginning of something unknown. Sometimes it’s just a call to embrace the inevitable.” 

He turned his head, putting his chin where his cheek had been. Hongjoong sat very still as if a delicate bird had just perched upon his shoulder. He wondered if Seonghwa knew that his fingers were now slowly tracing Hongjoong’s knuckles and the contours of his hand and wrist. His face felt very hot and he barely dared to look over at the face so near to his own. 

“Death is everyone’s card,” Seonghwa added. “We are all subject to great change. We all fear it a little, too.” 

“What if...You’re looking for a change?” Hongjoong’s question was genuine but his voice nearly failed him. His face was flushed with embarrassment, and he fidgeted a little as if he might pull away from Seonghwa.

“Then is it really a bad omen?” Seonghwa responded. He moved when Hongjoong moved. As Hongjoong writhed subtly, the hand that had held the card with him, slipping down onto his knee. And then up. And then...in. 

“Ah-! Seonghwa!” Hongjoong dropped the card and grasped Seonghwa’s wrist to keep it from sliding any further up his inner thigh. His eyes were wide and he was breathless and when he finally turned to face the man leaning so heavily into him now, he was met with a half-lidded sultry stare. He didn’t know what to say and his other hand moved to brace against Seonghwa’s shoulder, thinking he might push him back...but he didn’t. Seonghwa’s sliding fingers had been halted but it didn’t keep him from gripping Hongjoong’s thigh hard, forcing Hongjoong to bite his lip against a strange sound. 

“What are you dreaming about, Hongjoong?” Hongjoong could feel Seonghwa’s breath against his own lips, their faces hovering so close. He lifted his free hand to sweetly brush his knuckles down the side of Hongjoong’s face and Hongjoong involuntarily leaned into them. “What do you _want_ to dream about?” 

Hongjoong could barely keep his breathing steady. He let his eyes wander the room in all of its decadence, from the red drapes to the impossibly high ceilings. Everything else had gone, however. It was just them on this loveseat and the soft orange glow of the chandelier faded upon him noticing. Soenghwa was right. This couldn’t be anything but a dream. And suddenly, he feared waking. Hongjoong’s heart and breath quickened. He let his attention return to Seonghwa, knowing now that this...wasn’t real. But it felt real, from the grip between his thighs to the hot air causing moisture to gather on his lips. Seonghwa’s gaze bore so deep that he thought he could almost feel it. 

He let go of Seonghwa’s wrist, curled his previously bracing fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him in. Their mouths found each other with familiarity. Their tongues were not hesitant to search out one another. Hongjoong made a sound against Seonghwa’s lips, a combination of relief and need and his overcoat was pushed from his shoulders. As it slipped down his arms, he strained to free them but Seonghwa was practically on top of him. His movement was restricted, barely able to reach for him, as he was pushed deeper into the loveseat. He whimpered in frustration, wanting to hold onto Seonghwa, to which Seonghwa drew back and looked down at him, grinning. 

“Make that sound again,” He said as his fingers trailed down his torso and them back up knead playfully at his chest through his shirt. Hongjoong was breathless, practically on his back and supported by his elbows which were still trapped inside the bunched sleeves of his overcoat. He managed a defiant glare and took note that Seonghwa’s legs were on either side of one of his own, all the straddling he could manage on this little loveseat. He slowly bent his knee, sliding it up between Soenghwa’s thighs and pushing against his groin. 

Seonghwa’s body responded with a jolt that rippled up into his expression, interrupting his teasing grin. He bit his lip with a moaning sigh and he sat up straight, letting his head rolled back. Hongjoong lowered his knee, and used the opportunity to move to finally free his arms from the sleeves of his overcoat so that his hands could touch Seonghwa. He gripped his slender waist and used it to sit up so that he could slide his hands up the back of Seonghwa’s silken blouse. He felt tiny buttons all the way up but didn’t have time to wonder how Seonghwa had gotten into his shirt before he was kissing him again. It was a dream anyway. 

Eager fingers combed through Hongjoong’s hair and curled down to massage the back of his neck. He’d pulled insistently at Seonghwa until he slid a leg over and straddle his lap. Their mouths only parted in moments where they needed a breath and even then just barely as they groped at each other, huffing hot air against each other’s lips. They fumbled at the buttons on one another’s shirts, Seonghwa having more success than Hongjoong was with the little looped buttons down the back of the blouse. He felt like it should be easier and in a moment of playful frustration Hongjoong pulled the ties of the bow at Seonghwa’s throat loose. He laughed, suddenly delighted at the idea of unwrapping Seonghwa like a present and Seonghwa tilted his head back a little to look him in the eye. 

Seonghwa didn’t look as delighted as Hongjoong and he was instantly struck with the thought that laughing had been the wrong thing to do. He tried to shrug it off with an apologetic smile but Seonghwa only tilted his head, his unreadable gaze searching Hongjoong’s face. He’d stopped unbuttoning Hongjoong’s shirt and the moment came to a nearly full stop before Seonghwa’s his hands wandered up to frame either side of Hongjoong’s face. The unreadable expression, Hongjoong realized, seemed more like a deep fondness than irritation and he blushed as if they had not just been all over each other for the last few minutes. 

“What?” 

“Make that sound again,” Seonghwa said, much softer than he had earlier. When Hongjoong realized that he was referring to Hongjoong’s laugh he did, in fact, make the sound again. 

“You are so _weird_ ,” Hongjoong said, turning his face to kiss one the palms against his cheek. He had forgotten already that this was a dream, that none of it was real. But it still felt right. It didn’t feel awkward, or inappropriate or sudden. Hongjoong felt like this was something he did every day and that thought itself prompted the specific sensation of deja vu. He felt like… _exactly_ this had happened before and he knew what would happen next. 

They both turned their heads at the same time to see that one of the walls was now home to a door. It was ominous and stark against their darkened surroundings. After a long quiet moment the pounding began. 

**BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.**

It more than insistent or urgent. It was violent and loud like whatever was on the other side was attempting to break it down. Hongjoong had expected it but was immediately and thoroughly rattled just the same. He looked up to see Seonghwa glaring dangerously at the door, his body arching over Hongjoong’s like a dragon hoarding treasure.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said to no response. He grasped the other’s waist, rubbing at his sides trying to get his attention. He said his name again, still with no response and became momentarily distracted by the low sound of crackling flames and soft glowing embers drifting through the darkened space. The intensity of the atmosphere seemed to match that of Seonghwa’s fixation on the pounding door. 

“Seonghwa?” He reached up and turned Seonghwa’s face toward him. The tender fondness that had been there before, for a second, was replaced with fear and anxiety. Seonghwa was starting to feel less tangible. Hongjoong had heard a distance in his own voice when he spoke his name and the pounding had begun to echo as if they were in a vast chasm. Seonghwa’s expression softened and he smiled regretfully down at Hongjoong. He turned his head and gingerly kissed Hongjoong’s fingers, similar to how Hongjoong had done so to him. Hongjoong tilted his head up to meet Seonghwa’s as the other dipped his own down toward him. 

“ _Next time_ ,” He thought he heard Seonghwa whisper before kissing him awake. 

\---

Hongjoong’s opened his eyes with a start. Orange streetlight from the window created a slatted pattern across his darkened ceiling.The red drapes room. Again. Bits of his dream were already starting to fade and as he tried to hold on to some pieces, his own body was recalling others for him. He stretched and his blanket pulled a bit tightly at his hips. 

He glanced down and heat rushed to his face in embarrassment when he remembered that he had been dreaming about Seonghwa. The tight throbbing in his boxer shorts was enough of a reminder of what he had been dreaming _about_.He hadn’t seen Seonghwa in several weeks. Not since he come upon his store in shambles and Seonghwa a hot-ass mess. The ordeal had shaken him so thoroughly that Hongjoong didn’t know that he even wanted to go back. The dreams were really starting to confuse the shit out of him. 

Hongjoong rolled to his side, covering his eyes and groaned into his pillow. Eventually, resolving that he had something to take care of, he got up to take a shower.


	4. Violations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hongjoong was satisfied. Seonghwa stood where he was even after Hongjoong had gone and disappeared out of sight. He replayed the scenario in his head, climbing and descending a staircase of logic in search of an outcome that didn’t involve him hurting or concealing what he knew from Hongjoong. In every outcome he came to the same conclusion. 
> 
> “You fucked up, Seonghwa…” "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boundaries are important.

Darkness rolled across the ground like a heavy fog, swallowing Hongjoong’s feet. The impression of standing up high, as if he were poised at the edge of an unknown precipice left him with an overwhelming feeling of dread, more so than the pervading black nothingness on all sides. He crouched, dipping his fingers into the smog swirling around his ankles and felt nothing. He reached until he couldn’t anymore and felt nothing, still, not even the ground he had previously been standing on. How did he get here anyway?

Fear had never been much of an obstacle for Hongjoong. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it, that he didn’t feel it, that nothing scared him; Fear was simply not a significant inhibitor. But when a flicker of movement caught his eye out in the black distance, terror gripped him in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before. A flight response overcame him but his feet remained rooted as he squinted out into the void. Whatever movement there had been was not moving now, but it didn’t matter. An oppressive presence had made itself known to Hongjoong and he was too fearful to run. Would he step from the unseen precipice? Did distance even exist in this place? 

Hongjoong desperately wanted to make sense of his situation, of his being here. A layered, inhuman howl disrupted his attempts. He had never heard such a sound. The terror he felt to discover he was not alone in this place spread through his limbs like icey snake vines. He willed himself to move and still couldn’t. Panic seized him altogether when the howl’s source slipped into view. He couldn’t remember exactly how it got there, almost as if it always had been. Two red orbs glinted out ahead of him. Unmistakably, they were eyes, the distance imperceptible as they hovered well above Hongjoong’s eye line. It was big. It was way too big. They stared at one another and Hongjoong breaths became tight and strained. He shut his eyes and willed himself to be awake when he opened them again. 

A hand on his shoulder, a breath in his ear, the scent of lavender. His eyes snapped open and the malicious presence had closed the distance significantly. It towered over him but continued to otherwise blend seamlessly with the darkness. He shifted to touch the hand on his shoulder but his fingers met nothing but his own trembling form. Turning to look was a mistake because when he found nothing, another haunting wail filled the void. 

When Hongjoong returned his attention out ahead of him, the eyes were moving, set inside the head of an inky man-sized figure and sprinting toward him at full speed. Hongjoong was so frozen by fear that he couldn’t even loose a cry. He managed one step backward as the figure leapt through the air and his back bumped against something soft but solid. 

Fire erupted from all sides, engulfing the inky being when it was but an arm’s length from Hongjoong. The piercing shriek as it instantly disintgrated was drowned out by the roaring flames that had come to swirl around him, entirely too close. Hongjoong turned away, attempting to shield himself for fear of catching fire, burying his face against whatever it was he had bumped into. Flames still roared in his ears and squeezing his eyes shut did nothing to fade out the brightness. 

“I’m burning!” He cried, his voice finally finding him. But despite the sounds of fire, the heat he felt was minimal, more of a persistent warmth. The roaring lessened into the sounds of contained flickering.

A hand in his hair, a breath in his ear, the scent of lavender. Hongjoong’s could not will himself to untense but the familiar presence did enough to calm him that he was able to open his eyes. The brightness had not dissipated before because he had buried his own face directly into the fire. Tongues of flame lapped at his skin but still, he did not burn.This substance was solid but it wasn’t, all at once. He looked up at what he had pressed against out of desperation and found a different entity entirely: a being made of roiling fire. 

Sparks trailed off of it and carried out into the void. Hongjoong stared into its face,and burning bright eyes stared back, just about the only facial feature he could make out. The figure brought a flaming hand to his face and Hongjoong lifted his own trembling hand to touch it. His panicked breathing started to even out and he closed his eyes to the warmth against his face. His fear began to melt away as thoughts of the red eyes and the inky man fled him. 

“I won’t let you burn,” The figure’s voice was only just a whisper mingled with the sounds of soft crackling. It’s mouth became evident when its red lips parted and Hongjoong thought he recognized the face. He extended his other hand to touch it, stroking the flames without concern. Instead of passing through, his hand met a heat filled force. The fire being tipped his head into his hand, turning his face as if he were kissing his palm. Deja Vu. 

“I know you…” Hongjoong said, the name, the knowledge of this being on the tip of his tongue. And that smell, “...Lavender.” A thin red smile flickered in and out on the being’s face. 

“Wake up, Hong,” It said. The voice was familiar still, but off. Hongjoong regarded the being with confusion.

“Wake up,” It repeated in a sing song tone. Hongjoong outright frowned now, tilting his head. 

“Huh?” 

The fire being leaned forward, their head only a couple of inches from his own.

“Open your eyes.” 

Hongjoong yelped as he jammed his knee up into the underside of a table. His chair was tilted back on its back legs and his arms were flung outward to try to catch himself though it didn’t seem he was falling. He whipped around to see that someone had a grip on his chair and a big stupid grin on his face.

“Wakey, Wakey.” 

“Yunho!” He snapped, shifted his weight forward to try to set his chair back on all fours. He was small enough that the person who had disturbed him,Yunho, had no trouble holding the chair in place for a moment before letting it go with a snicker. “You’re an idiot!” 

“You were asleep,” Yunho walked around to pull a chair out across from Hongjoong. He was very tall, and dressed casually with a nice bag slung over his shoulder. He gestured around at the quiet cafe they were in. Only a handful of people were sitting inside, minding their business with their laptops open. “In a public place, no less!” 

Hongjoong was scowling at Yunho and fighting the urge to rub his eyes. The light had been pouring in through the cafe windows when he’d arrived was nearly gone. In front of him was an open laptop that had since gone into rest mode. He wondered how long he had dozed for and if anyone else had noticed. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” He countered in a petulant and cranky tone. “I was...thinking.” 

His dream began returning to him in pieces and it struck him as just that, a weird dream that had started out as a nightmare. He’d been having a lot of those. He tapped the touchpad on his computer and the screen illuminated to a prompt window full of code. Hongjoong fought off the urge to groan at the sight of work he was supposed to have been doing. 

“Uh-huh. What were you thinking about?” Yunho was still smirking at him, amused by Hongjoong’s disorganized state. “Seonghwa?”

“What?”

“You said ‘Seonghwa’ right before I woke you up. Whose Seonghwa?”

“No one,” Hongjoong said, quickly. “I mean...I don’t know.”

Yunho’s lifted a brow at Hongjoong, obviously suspicious of his weird answer. 

Hongjoong sighed and pinched at the spot between his brows before shaking his head a little. “He was an acquaintance I had a few months back. I don’t know, I was just having a weird dream. This...guy...he was there but he was made of fire and another guy who was like...a monster…”

“Yikes,” Yunho folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe if you slept in a bed more often or...slept more often in general, you wouldn’t have such weird dreams.”

“Whatever,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes and snapped his laptop shut. “So you found me, what do you got?”

The man across from him rolled his own eyes before setting his bag out on the table and opening it to pull out a stack a thin folder. Hongjoong made a disappointed face that he ignored as he flipped it open. “You know, one of these days we could meet up for a beer or food or something.”

“I’m really busy,” Hongjoong said dryly, eyes glued to the folder, eager to know the contents. 

“With the weirdest shit,” Yunho said, pushing the folder toward him. “I scoured pretty much every resource I know of looking for what you asked. I couldn’t find it anywhere. Thought it might be some variation of an ancient druid symbol, I couldn’t even find a root symbol. So I put it out there and started asking around the dumbest communities to find and you’ll never guess where I actually got a hit.” 

Hongjoong pulled a screenshot image from the folder that was obviously pulled from a popular social media page website. Amid a disorganized array of celtic knots and tribal tattoos all culminating into an embarrassing sleeve of tattooed ignorance was a small symbol, extremely similar to the sigil that had been finely etched into the glass of Seognhwa’s apothecary. 

“Pagan Moms is a nutso group, I’ll tell you that. Overseas, Anti-vaccination, pyramid schemes, out of context spiritual quotes and all that. But this was the only place I got a hit. The user said it was supposed to be good luck.” Yunho reached over and pulled out another printed image from the small pile of papers. “She actually sent a picture on the selections she chose from for the tattoo shop. They’re all so alike, it's like its own little glyph system. But if it is, it's gibberish. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Hongjoong gaze shifted between the image of the tattoo and the chart it had come from. His hand absently gripped at his forearm. The symbol from the window wasn’t the only one he recognized. The chart that Yunho’s source had provided had numerous other symbols that he’d seen tattooed into the arms of the man, what was his name? Yeosang.

“What happened to that book thing I asked you about? The demonologist’s bestiary…” 

“Look, you asked me to check this out for you,” Yunho’s expression verged on exasperated. 

“Months ago. I thought we were moving past it when I asked you to look into the other thing.” 

“A hit’s a hit, Hongjoong. You still haven’t _paid_ me for the bestiary thing by the way. I have a lot of other work to do, you know. My thesis isn’t writing itself.” 

“So this is it?” Hongjoong asked, flipping through the images and a few little blurbs that Yunho must have written up himself. He must have tried to study them. “Pagan Moms was your only hit.” 

“Some people on a wicca forum tried discussing it. One of them seemed particularly interested in where you found it,” Yunho shrugged a little and leaned back in his chair again. Hongjoong’s eyes snapped up from the folder with intensity. 

“What did you tell them?” 

“Well, I don’t know where _you_ found it, because you won’t tell me. So I gave an approximate location, I guess.” 

Hongjoong smacked his hand down on the papers. “Have you ever heard of stranger danger, Yunho?” 

The other leaned over the table toward Hongjoong with wide-eyes and a bright sarcastic smile. “Have you ever heard of paying your debts, Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong’s nose wrinkled and brow furrowed at once. “I asked you for two things, paid you for the one I don’t want anymore and you ended up giving me that _one_ thing, useless as it is. I don’t owe you for anything else.” 

Yunho reached into his bag again and pulled out another folder, much thicker and lined with colorful tabs and labels, and set it on the table between them. Hongjoong immediately reached for it but Yunho slapped his own hand down this time, barring him from opening it. “You’re really shit at research and your priorities baffle me. You left school, you’re coding garbage little apps to fund this weird little obsession of yours and you look like you haven’t slept in a million years. You’re a mess, Hongjoong and yeah you might have enlisted me as your research monkey for whatever this is, but hear me when I say I’m concerned.” 

Hongjoong regarded Yunho with an icy glare, sitting through his commentary with a tight jaw. It wasn’t the first time this person had voiced his concern. In fact, Hongjoong suspected Yunho counted himself a friend, despite the very business-like exchanges. At times he even returned these sentiments but in recent months Hongjoong had become withdrawn and more absorbed in his interests. People who had counted his friends had been moving on for years and it never much bothered him but Yunho was able to stick around under the pretense of being used for his study field. Hongjoong sometimes felt very put off by his emotional investment. 

“Noted,” Hongjoong said flatly and attempted to reach for the thicker folder again but Yunho slid it away from him. 

“I believe that’s two of the two things.” He usually had a pretty pleasant demeanor even when Hongjoong was in a less than stellar mood, which was more and more often these days. Hongjoong felt a pang of guilt to see Yunho looking readably apathetic, his eyes turned out onto the darkened street outside the window. Hongjoong bit his lip a little, frowning to himself. It didn’t sit well with him to have upset anyone as nice as Yunho.

“I’m an asshole,” He said, which Yunho took to be the apology that it was. 

“You’re an asshole,” He agreed. “And I’m a badass. Don’t ever underestimate Jeong Yunho.”

“I’ll get the folder from you on payday,” Hongjoong promised, notably making an effort to sound and look less unpleasant. He closed the folder with the tattoo information and slipped it into his laptop case. 

“Or!” Yunho was already smiling again. “You let me get you a meal and a drink and I just give it to you.” 

“You’re not very good at extortion.”

“But I’m _very_ good at feeding my friends,” The other counted with a wink, pushing the second folder across to Hongjoong before shouldering his bag and shifting to stand. Hongjoong didn’t feel like he was being given much choice and he sighed deeply while putting his laptop into its case. “Come on! The place I want to go is going to close soon.” 

“Why are you nice to me, Yunho?” He asked. It was more of a passive question and he didn’t expect an answer though, he really should have.

“I think you’re a weirdo and I’m not even totally sure what you’re all about.” Yunho wandered around and clapped a hand down on Hongjoong’s shoulder who struggled not to shrug it off. “But I like a puzzle and they’re more pliable when they’re well fed.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and shook his head but there was a little bit of a smile playing on his lip as he stood up and shouldered his bag to follow Yunho out of the cafe. It was a brisk evening but it was refreshing. A mild scent of springtime blooms lingered in the air, almost making Hongjoong suggest they go to the park instead of dinner. A deal was a deal though and Yunho was being incredibly forgiving already. 

Yunho had pulled out his phone to start thumbing through images he’d saved and showing Hongjoong as he began to launch into his theories on some of the digging he’d done into the symbols. They hadn’t made it a block, neither of them paying attention, when they collided with another pair of people. Yunho was quick, dropping his own phone to reach out and steady the shorter of the two before they could stumble. 

“I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed, anxiously. “We didn’t see you, are you alright?” 

The shorter person was nodding, gently slipping his elbows from Yunho’s steadying grip. His companion had already stooped to pick up Yunho’s dropped phone. He straightened up to hand it back to him with a pained and apologetic expression, probably due to the enormous crack in the screen. Yunho winced in return, thanking the man anyway for returning his phone. Hongjoong stood there uselessly for the whole exchange. 

“Oh, Hongjoong…” It was Seonghwa, of course, accompanied by Yeosang. He looked a little unaware and tired, not entirely unlike himself. Hongjoong stared dumbly for long enough that Yunho had stopped examining his damaged phone to regard him expectantly. 

“Uh--Seonghwa,” Hongjoong managed, quietly. He gave a brief and wary glance to Yeosang before allowing himself to take in Seonghwa’s appearance, apprehension clear in his features. He looked well, the cuts having healed on his face but for one fading scar across the bridge of his nose. His gaze was as intense as ever and even while standing a few feet away Hongjoong caught the scent of lavender. They regarded each other awkwardly before Hongjoong averted his gaze. 

“Seonghwa!” Yunho exclaimed, delighted. Seonghwa blinked a few times, his mouth falling open as if to say something in return. Of course, he didn’t recognize Yunho. “This is Seonghwa!” 

Seonghwa cleared his throat and itched his nose a bit, embarrassed. Yeosang had fixed his gaze on an irritated looking Hongjoong who still wasn’t looking at either of them. His eyes narrowed a bit, perhaps put off by Hongjoong’s seeming lack of interest and he shifted to stand just a little closer to Seonghwa. 

“I’m surprised I was worth mentioning…” Seonghwa said. Hongjoong could sense the prodding wariness in his tone. After all, their last encounter would make for a hell of a story. He hadn’t been back to check on Seonghwa, hadn’t reached out, hadn’t even been by to see how the shop had fared. Not in months. 

Yunho snickered. “Heh! Only in his sleep!” He gave Seognhwa a little wink. “I only know your name because he was saying it when I caught him snoozing on the job. But don’t take it the wrong way because he also said you were on fire--” He was cut off by a sharp smack to his midsection and looked back down at a red and furious looking Hongjoong. A cartoon character would have steam coming out of their ears. “Oop--uh...I’m Yunho.”

He offered his hand to Yeosang first, who shook it with a shy smile. “Yeosang…Sorry about your phone.” Yunho glanced at the busted phone in his other hand and winced again but smiled at Yeosang as he gave his hand a friendly squeeze before letting go. 

“I know someone who can fix it. Don’t worry,” He assured Yeosang before reaching out toward Seonghwa to shake his hand. Seonghwa didn’t notice, his attention fixed only on Hongjoong whose face was still deeply flushed as he tried to burn holes into the ground with his eyes. Things were getting more uncomfortable by the second. Yunho dropped his hand and looked back at Yeosang with a wink. “Seonghwa. Got it.“

Hongjoong was concerning Yunho again. Most people were better at awkward encounters than this. When he spoke again he sounded almost desperate. “SO! Hongjoong! Fried chicken. Gotta go...eat it!”

Hongjoong finally looked up at him and then between Yeosang and Seonghwa again. “Uh...Yuhno. Sorry, I think I’m just really tired. I think I’m just gonna go home.” He reached into his laptop bag and pulled out the second folder, handing it back to Yunho, who tried very hard at first not to take it. Had he not snatched it when Hongjoong let go to turn away on his heel and speed away, it would have fallen on the ground.

“Huh? HONG!” Yunho called after him. “Hong, what gives!” 

They all watched as Hongjoong broke into a jog. Yeosang lifted a brow and glanced to Seonghwa to gauge his reaction. It was Yunho who looked the most hurt, however, fumbling with the folder which had become a bit cumbersome with the abruptness of its return. The defeat on his face was still evident even when he managed to get it into his bag. Still, he smiled softly at the other two and gave an embarrassed and apologetic little shrug.

“I’m sorry, he’s been...stressed. I probably should have been a little less--” 

“Excuse me,” Seonghwa interrupted, barely glancing over at Yeosang before taking off in a jog after Hongjoong. They both watched quietly, Yunho more lost for words than anything. Eventually, he cleared his throat and turned to look at Yeosang. 

“I guess...I really embarrassed them.” 

“Maybe, Hongjoong,” Yeosang said, shifting his feet a little. He was looking a bit anxious, himself. After all, Seonghwa had just left him on the street with a complete stranger. Yunho sighed heavily and hung his head a little. “But...He kinda seems like a difficult person.” 

Yunho looked up and smiled again. “Nah, he’s just got a few walls up, that’s all. I’ll just file this event away for next time. I mean...do you know Hongjoong too?” 

“No,” Yeosang shook his head. “He was coming around to Seonghwa’s shop for a while but I don’t even know how much _he_ knows about him.” 

“They kinda looked like they knew each other well,” Yunho said.

“Maybe they just want to.” 

Yunho regarded Yeosang thoughtfully as the other continued to watch Seonghwa and Hongjoong recede out of view. He was still standing here with him despite both of them having been abandoned by their friends. 

“So we _were_ on our way to get dinner. I was even buying but now--” 

“I’m not good with strangers,” Yeosang said quickly. 

“Oh, me neither. I can be extremely awkward and I embarrass people but...I kinda hate to eat alone. It’s this chicken place I’ve been meaning to try--” 

“Ok, let’s go.” Yeosang changed his mind suddenly and Yunho grinned down at him, surprised but pleased. They both took one last look down the down the street in the direction that their friends had gone heading off in their own direction. 

“No one has ever run away from me before,” Seonghwa was out of breath by the time he’d caught up with Hongjoong. Hongjoong had slowed to a power-walk and jumped a little at Seonghwa speaking beside him. He looked him over, seemingly a bit offended that he had been followed. 

“I have something I need to do,” Hongjoong said, a little too sharply. Then, out of sudden realization, “Did you just leave your friend back there?”

“Did you just leave yours?” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head a little. “Yunho isn’t my friend. We just work together sometimes.” 

“Ah,” Seonghwa didn’t sound very much like he believed Hongjoong, but then, he might have simply been too out of breath to respond adequately. He reached out and gently took hold of Hongjoong’s wrist and was relieved when the other stopped to look at him. He looked wary and a little irritated but waited for Seonghwa to explain himself. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said after rubbing at a small stitch in his side. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“What?”

“You didn’t come back after you...brought me the soup.” He tried for a moment to follow Hongjoong’s gaze as it flitted in every direction but directly at him. He gave up when Hongjoong opened his laptop, and started sifting through a folder inside. “And now you’re running and...should I have--am I--?” 

“Are you familiar with this?” Hongjoong had pulled the picture of the symbol tattoo from his bag and held it out to Seonghwa who was briefly stunned into silence. “Your friend has tattoos like this up his arms. You both did something strange that I can’t explain that day. You were all sorts of messed up and neither of you were willing to give me answers.”

“So you went looking for your own,” Seonghwa said flatly. 

“Well, yeah,” Hongjoong shrugged. “I know you’re a witch. I know that your store is the real deal. And honestly, whatever you’ve got going on is your business and that was pretty clear so... Research works for me. I didn’t see a need to go back.” 

Seonghwa looked at the picture for a few more seconds before lifting his gaze to Hongjoong’s. “So how far has your research gotten you? What have you learned about this, and Yeosang’s tattoos and anything else you decided to look into regarding my business. Did it occur to you that I might have the answers? That I might be more informative than whoever gave you this?”

“You seem the guarded type,” Hongjoong gave another shrug and shifted to slip the paper back into his bag. 

“ _You_ ran away from _me_.” Seonghwa snapped, snatching the paper from Hongjoong’s hand before he could put it away. “What did your research tell you? What have you found out about me that you were too afraid to ask for yourself?” 

Hongjoong grabbed his thumb, scowling between a deep papercut and Seonghwa. “Since when is looking into some stupid symbol the same as looking into a whole person? I haven’t seen or thought about you in months. And I’m not afraid of you!” 

“Since you have no idea what the hell you’re doing _ever_! Since it never even occurred to you that something like this might have personal significance! Since you walked away from our last meeting and didn’t consider _once_ that your little hobby might be a dangerous thing to navigate on your own.”

“What the hell are you so angry for?” People were starting to stare at them. Especially, when Hongjoong stepped toward Seonghwa, getting in his face a little. “Because I went and pulled some obscure symbol off the internet instead of coming to you?”

Seonghwa got in Hongjoong’s face, right back. “Yes! You have _no_ idea how this world works. Your arrogance and your _ignorance_ is going to get you hurt. God damn, Hongjoong! Maybe the Death card is just death.” 

Shock wiped all other expression from Hongjoong’s face. His mouth fell open and he stepped back, practically stumbling. From the way that Seonghwa pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, it was evident that he knew the implications of his own words. The sense of having violated something was immediate. The silence forming between them, even on an active sidewalk, was almost oppressive. 

Hongjoong’s fingers inched up to touch his own lips, thinking on the only dream he could remember in which Seonghwa had himself had been very intimate. The advice he had received about the Death tarot card had been so insignificant at the time. It had only been a dream. It wasn’t supposed to be real. Seonghwa shouldn’t know about it. And what about all the other times, the dreams only his body could embarrassingly recall upon waking?

Seonghwa was a witch and Hongjoong had admitted to understanding that. The possibility that Hongjoong’s repetitive, specific, very vivid and lucid dreams being more than just the toiling of his subconscious should have occurred to him. But the idea that he would have been sharing his subconscious even for a moment, would have never. His face was hot and embarrassment stung his eyes. All thoughts of arguing with this man had left him, he couldn’t even look at Seonghwa.

“Hongjoong--” 

“So you knew?” 

Seonghwa didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t looking at Hongjoong either, fighting with his own embarrassment. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach and he absently pressed his palm to his tight and uncomfortable chest. Not answering wouldn’t be acceptable. 

“Not...until the door...” 

“And every time after?”

“Hongjoong...” 

Hongjoong finally let his gaze settle back on Seonghwa, wearing a subtly dark expression. “You told me it was a dream. We’re standing here talking about _your_ comfort and the privacy I’ve violated and you let me...You let us...”

“Dreams are very hard to control--”

“What a _stupid_ excuse!” Hongjoong covered his face almost involuntarily and dropped into a crouch. What to do with all of this awkward humiliation? Even if he wasn’t looking, he seemed to sense Seonghwa reach a comforting hand toward him. “Don’t _touch_ me!” 

Seonghwa yanked his hand back as if he had just touched a hot stove. His lips parted to speak but he could think of nothing to say. People were really looking at them now and a woman inched toward them, Hongjoong in particular as if she were about to inquire about the problem but Hongjoong stood up so abruptly that even Seonghwa took a nervous step back. Hongjoong’s face was red and his eyes were glassy as if trying to contain tears which in turn made Seonghwa’s eyes sting. He watched as Hongjoong reached into his bag and pulled out the folder with the sigil chart and Yunho’s notes. He nearly forgot how to use his hands when Hongjoong half tossed, half shoved it at him and then thrust a finger in his face. 

“Stay away. I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. I sure as hell don’t need your advice. If you see me on the street keep walking. Understood?” Hongjoong regarded him aggressively...hatefully. Seonghwa felt a lump form in his throat and he did his best to swallow it away, knowing that if he voiced his understanding that I could end in further embarrassment. So he nodded. 

Hongjoong was satisfied. Seonghwa stood where he was even after Hongjoong had gone and disappeared out of sight. He replayed the scenario in his head, climbing and descending a staircase of logic in search of an outcome that didn’t involve him hurting or concealing what he knew from Hongjoong. In every outcome he came to the same conclusion. 

“You fucked up, Seonghwa…” He murmured to himself before finally turning to head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I re-wrote this chapter about 3 times. It has 3 different endings, some more dramatic than others, all of them ending with a sense of dissatisfaction. I've decided to stop fighting it and let Seongjoong's bad day play out. 
> 
> Thank you for waiting and thank you for reading!


	5. Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sh, Let me finish.” Yeosang shushed him sharply before withdrawing his finger from his lips so that he could use the same hand to curl at the back of Hongjoong’s neck. “I don’t have time for your denial or your confusion. You and Seonghwa can be whatever you’re supposed to be. But if anything happens to him because of your carelessness, your arrogance, your thoughtless conjuring, Hongjoong... I’ll kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Yeosang is in love with every boy. 
> 
> I'll add more tags to this later.

“Listen, I know what you’re _saying_ and I’m telling you that I don’t believe you,” Yunho was leaning over the purchase counter at Seonghwa’s shop. A carry-out bag of chicken curry and rice sat neglected beside him as Yeosang leaned over the other side, forcing him to look at a small clear cube with what looked like little white lima beans inside. 

“They’re magic beans! That’s what we sell. That’s _all_ we sell.” Yeosang was wearing an apron, the strings wrapped around his waist and tied into a little bow in the front. He was practically drowning in his oversized long sleeve shirt, dwarfing him more than usual in the contrast of Yunho’s height. 

“How! How are they magic? What do they do?” Yunho, who sounded exasperated, looked completely entertained despite how ridiculous he clearly thought Yeosang’s claims were about the beans in the box. No sooner had he asked the question did Yeosang reach out and grab his wrists with a little gasp as he stared down at the beans. “Oh my god, what? What?!” 

“Look,” Yeosang said, in a hushed tone. They both fell silent and watched the little box and sure enough the beans shivered a little bit. After a moment, one of them jumped up on its own and bounced off the top of the little cube they were in. Yunho started shaking his head as Yeosang regarded him with something of a sly smile and whispered, “Magic.” 

“I’m looking it up,” Yunho said, reaching for his pocket with his phone. 

“Wow, I thought you were fun,” Yeosang finally pulled the bag of food toward him and peaked inside. “Wait...where’s mine?” 

“That _is_ yours. I can’t stay, I have a group project meeting.” Yunho sounded and looked genuinely apologetic, even a little disappointed. 

“You didn’t have to bring me lunch...” 

“Ulterior motives. I’m hoping if I show up with food often enough, I can convince you to come out again some time,” Yunho said with a little shrug. 

“Ah…” Yeosang’s smile wavered and he looked down at the counter and folded his hands on top of the food. 

Yunho was quick to fill the silence, leaning over further to try to catch Yeosang’s gaze. “This is fun too, though. This is a neat little bean shop you’ve got here.” 

Yeosang looked up at him again and smiled a soft, shy smile. Yunho’s unfaltering kindness, understanding and sheer willingness to brush awkward moments immediately under the rug would never cease to take him by surprise. They had been friends for only a month or so and Yeosang had only agreed to meet him one other time outside of the shop. He’d met Yunho’s friends and it had been...overwhelming to say the least. All he could remember was the embarrassing walk home in which he tried and failed to explain his failure to cope with the outing and Yunho’s thoughtful silence as he allowed Yeosang to ramble and fret. He was sure he’d never see this person again and here he was, stopping into the shop with regularity, bringing lunch and trying to convince him to hang out. 

“Well,” Yeosang said, eventually. “You gonna buy any beans or what?”

“Stop trying to convince customers that I sell beans,” Seonghwa’s voice sounded from the back hallway before he stepped around the corner. As usual, he was well put together but he looked very tired. He was pulling on a light jacket and nodded to Yunho in greeting. He was used to seeing Yuhno more than he was new customers anyway. The man stopped in to chat with Yeosang a few times a week. 

“Don’t listen to him,” said Yeosang. “These are the finest beans in town. You’re not gonna find a better deal.” 

“Seonghwa, you might need to rethink your staffing choices,” Yunho was on his phone now, likely searching for exactly what Yeosang was teasing him with. Seonghwa barely responded with what might have been an attempt at amusement if it didn’t sound like a hum of acknowledgement as headed toward the door. Yeosang left the counter and rushed to catch up with him as he was reaching it. 

“Where are you going?” He asked softly, gently placing his hand over Seonghwa’s on the door handle. 

“I’m just running a few errands,” Seonghwa said, turning his hand over to give Yeosang’s a reassuring squeeze. Yeosang used it to turn Seonghwa toward him who gave him a sleepy smile and a sigh.

“Have you slept?” Yeosang asked these sort of questions even when he knew the answer. He knew Seonghwa hadn’t been sleeping well because he had been around a lot more often trying to get him to do so. He’d made plenty of effective teas, performed a number of small spells and had all but moved in in his attempts to take care of Seonghwa. As was typical, his question was ignored and Seonghwa squeezed his hand a little before attempting to let go. 

Yeosang didn’t let him. He used the hand he had a hold of to pull the other closer. Seonghwa gave a nervous glance toward Yunho who’s back was to them and Yeosang reached up to turn his head back toward him. “You’re doing it again.” 

“I’m fine, it’s just a little restlessness. It will pass.” Seonghwa whispered. It was evident from the look he was receiving that Yeosang didn’t believe him and he gave an exasperated sigh and another darted glance toward Yunho. “I’ll take another nap when I get back. I promise. Please, you have company.” 

Yeosang’s response was to press both of his hands to either side of Seonghwa’s face, squeezing so that his cheek squished and his lips puckered out. If he thought he was embarrassed before, now he had a better reason. Seonghwa rolled his eyes and his hands fell to his sides in defeat. Yeosang was smiling in amusement and pinched his cheeks rather hard before Seonghwa finally laughed and grabbed his hands. Whatever Yeosang’s intention had been, it seemed to work. Seonghwa looked over at Yunho one more time who was almost certainly making a point of ignoring them by now before quickly dipping his head to give Yeosang a soft kiss.

Yeosang leaned into him for only a moment before playfully pushing Seonghwa away. “Please, I have company .” 

“Mhm. I’ll be back soon,” Seonghwa said, turning toward the door again.

“Bye, Seonghwa!” Yunho called from over his shoulder. 

“Bye, Yuhno,” Seonghwa replied before departing the store. 

“So they’re not even beans! They’re seeds full of...moth larva? Ew, why do you have these?” Yunho launched into the results of his search as soon as he heard the door close. Yeosang was returning to the counter, a distracted and distant expression having come over him. 

“What can I say? You got me.” He pulled the curry lunch that Yunho had brought him from the bag and opened it, staring at it for a few seconds before almost immediately giving up on it. He closed it again and pushed it aside. There was no doubt that he would eat it later but Yunho appeared concerned regardless. 

“So, Seonghwa hasn’t been kinda distant lately, huh?” He definitely had his finger on the pulse most of the time. “I know the feeling. Dating and grad-school rarely has its upsides.”

“Seonghwa is not my boyfriend.” Yeosang lifted the little box of larva seeds from the counter and brought it to eye level, making his strange mood upon Seonghwa leaving even more evident with strange behavior. 

“Oh. I guess I assumed since you guys seem pretty close. Like...kissing each other right on the mouth-close.”

Yeosang put the box down and fixed his attention on Yunho. The man was pretending to look at his phone to play off the new rosy color in his cheeks and ears. He smirked and leaned over the counter, “What else is right-on-the-mouth-close? Is it the same as ‘brings me lunch even though he can’t stay’ close? Or “he won’t go outside but this is fun too” close?” 

Yunho stood up straight and averted his gaze. Yeosang laughed at him and pulled the food toward himself again to open it. Flustering Yuhno seemed to improve his mood significantly even though he eventually gave Yunho an apologetic shrug. 

“That was way too easy,” He said. “Yeah, Seonghwa and I are close. He is more than my friend and it's been that way for a long time. We come first in each other’s lives but we don’t really discuss parameters or what that’s supposed to mean, physically. But I have never felt a need and neither has he.” 

Yunho, who was supposed to be leaving for a meeting, settled back to the counter with his elbows. He was still blushing but if Yeosang ignored it then he would too. “Seems complicated. What if he wanted to...do with someone else the things he does with you?” 

“Then he would,” Yeosang said though a mouthful of food. “It wouldn’t mean that we’re not close anymore. I trust Seonghwa to be there when I need him and he expects the same of me. Affection isn’t really part of the deal but it’s...nice.”

“You’re not afraid of losing his affection to someone else?” 

“No.” Yeosang observed Yunho’s as he became quiet and thoughtful again. He let the other think while enjoying his lunch and passively thought that he should remind Yunho about his meeting. But he didn’t. “You don’t have to give me your impression right away.” 

Yunho tilted his head and flashed a sweet smile. “You don’t need my impression. I’m not here to judge you. I’ve just never met anyone in a relationship so...open and I think it’s very interesting. I admire your confidence. Your belief in one another is really touching.”

Yeosang fell quiet and looked at Yunho a bit differently. It was as if he were looking at an entirely different person for the first time and of course, accompanied by Yeosang’s silence, he was blushing again. It really didn’t take much. Eventually, he spoke. “Have I told you I’m glad I broke your phone?” 

“Wow, ok.” Yunho laughed and finally started to gather his things. Yeosang reached out and stopped him momentarily, taking his hand which forced Yunho to look at him. 

“I’m serious,” He said as he turned Yunho’s hand over to look at his palm. “You’re a unique soul with a rare gift you don’t even know you have.” 

He smiled down at his palm and used a finger to trace a few of the lines curiously. Yunho raised a inquisitive eyebrow when Yeosang smiled to himself. “What do you see?” 

“A life full of happy surprises that I wouldn’t spoil even if you paid me.” 

“Ok well then, what’s my rare gift?” Yunho turned his hand over to hold onto Yeosang’s who didn’t hesitate to fold his other hand on top, sandwiching Yunho’s between his own. “Do I have super powers?” 

Yeosang couldn’t help but laugh at his question. “Even better. Your rare gift is supreme kindness and understanding.” 

“Oooh supreme? I like the sound of that!” Despite his joke, Yunho looked touched. The color in his cheeks was basically permanent now and he had a hard time meeting Yeosang’s eye but he didn’t let go of Yeosang’s hand just yet either. They were both quiet for a few seconds until Yeosang finally released his hand. 

“Now buy some beans or get out,” He said with a shoo of his wrist. 

“I refuse to fall for your false advertising!” Yunho pointed rudely at Yeosang and shouldered his bag before heading to the door. They both exchanged fond smiles and a wave before Yunho finally left for the meeting he was very likely running late for. 

By the time Seonghwa returned home, the sun was down and the shop was dark and locked up. He regretted not turning the lights on immediately after closing the door behind him when he turned to see a wavering dark form peering at him from the supply room door. He jumped and almost yelped, clapping his hand to his chest for a long moment before pointing a threatening finger at the shade which slinked backward through the wall. Yeosang had sworn to banish it again if it returned but neither of them had done so for weeks now. Seonghwa chose to ignore it again.

He left a stack of books he had in hand beside the register and headed down the hall to the backmost door which lead to an upstairs flat. The stairwell was also dark but it didn’t stop him from climbing them blindly while stripping away his jacket and overshirt on the way up. He almost tripped taking his shoes off at the top of the stairs, tripping over another pair of shoes and he swore before realizing that Yeosang must still be here. He certainly would not have left his own shoes so out of place. 

Seonghwa tiptoed through his dark apartment, down the hall to the bedroom where a soft glow emitted from a crack in the door. He peaked in to an image of Yeosang having surrounded himself in a nest of blankets and pillows, many of which he’d pulled from the seating in the living room. His hands and sleeping face were the only bits of Yeosang he could really see and Seonghwa shook his head with a sigh and a fond smile before letting himself in as quietly as he could. 

Yeosang didn’t stir even as he started peeling away pillows and blankets, shifting him softly to make room as if he were excavating something precious and fragile. He was starting to suspect that perhaps he was off projecting rather than sleeping when Seonghwa suddenly found a pair of arms encircling his neck and pulling him down. Struggling a little, he gave an exhausted groan as he was smothered against Yeosang’s shoulder before resolving to roll onto his back, taking Yeosang with him. 

“You said soon,” Came Yeosang’s muffled voice from the side of Seonghwa’s neck. 

“I’m sorry.” Seonghwa shifted to drag his fingers softly up and down Yeosang’s back. “I was looking for a book.” 

“Did you find it?” 

“No,” Seonghwa sighed heavily. He tried to mask how concerned he really was to not have found the book he was looking for, despite knowing exactly where it had been only weeks before. If Yeosang noticed, he chose not to react. Seonghwa nearly thought he had fallen asleep again were it not for the soft kissing against his neck that slowly trailed toward his jaw. The touch was so light that he couldn’t help but to shiver which earned him a little laugh against his flesh causing him to shiver again. 

Yeosang lifted his head just enough to see Seonghwa’s face. He looked so tired and a little...sad. He pushed a bit of hair out of his sleepy friend’s eyes and observed him a moment before deciding to save all of the questions he had. Seonghwa was terrible at sharing but Yeosang could be patient about it. 

“Yunho asked about _us_ today,” He said as he shifted to lay closely beside Seonghwa. Seonghwa reached for his free hand to lock his fingers into the other’s comfortably. A little chuckle escaped the other followed by another exhausted sigh. 

“He likes you a lot, huh? You don’t need my permission, Yeosang.”

“I’m not asking,” Yeosang said, a little too sharply. A hand combed up through his hair in response and Seonghwa nodded a little. It was strange that he chose not to answer at all. He leaned up on his elbow to look down at Seonghwa, concerned. He couldn’t meet his gaze so just as he had earlier, he turned Seonghwa’s face toward him. “Hey...What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just very tired,” Seonghwa mustered a smile but it didn’t sait Yeosang desire for an answer. He let out of a heavy breathe and let his weight settle into the other a bit. His search of Seonghwa’s face, looking for an answer, discouraged Seonghwa’s smile and it fell away as Yeosang shook his head. 

“I’ve made you teas, I’ve done spells,” Yeosang, recounted in a soft tone. He slipped his hand free of Seonghwa’s to slide it southward so that he could fiddle with the small buckle on his belt, “I’ve exhausted you in as many ways as I care to. And you’re still not sleeping. Something is wrong, Seonghwa. I’m starting to get upset that you won’t tell me.” 

Seonghwa reached down and took the hand plucking at his belt for emphasis and brought it up to kiss Yeosang’s fingers which splayed out flat against his face when he released them. Yeosang had been incredibly attentive, moreso than he’d ever ask for and it didn’t go unnoticed by Seonghwa. He wished he could articulate it without it evolving into a real discussion. 

“Yeosang...I humiliated myself and...someone else and I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

“When? How? So you can’t sleep?” 

“Please,” Seonghwa almost whined. “Please let me...deal with it.” 

“What could be so bad? Is this about Hongjoo--” He was cut short by a finger to his lips and he scowled at Seonghwa.

“You’re right,” Seonghwa said. “You’ve done a lot for me and I’ve been unavailable. Do you want repayment?”

As he spoke, he sat up and bore down on Yeosang until he was on his back and Seonghwa was leaning over him, a hand pressed into the mattress on either side. “Shall I exhaust _you_ for a change?” 

“Mmmh, ” Yeosang gave a sigh that fell somewhere between frustrated and intrigued. He writhed a little beneath Seonghwa and despite his words, moved his hips in a way that let him rub against Seonghwa’s knee bent between his legs. “You make it so hard to say no.” 

Seonghwa leaned down to try to claim a kiss from Yeosang who denied him by turning his head. There was a moment’s pause before Seonghwa sat up, shifted the knee between his legs to the other side of him so that he was straddling Yeosang. He let his hands rest in front of him on the other man’s abdomen and waited. 

“Aw, Look at that face,” Yeosang couldn’t help but smile up at Seonghwa was, letting his hands slid up the other man’s thighs onto his hips. “Seonghwa...How many times after San--After...Everything had you broken into my apartment to wake me up to eat or go outside or clean? I resented you. I did a lot to try to get you to go away.”

Yeosang sat up, holding onto Seonghwa’s waist to keep him close and use him as leverage. Seonghwa who had been sleepily hanging his head, sighed at the touch of another forehead against his own. He let it roll off and onto Yeosang’s shoulder, who laughed a little as he struggled a bit to scoot back a little so that he could lean against the headboard allowing him to better hold Soenghwa.

“But you didn’t stop. You improved my life. You brought me back from…” He trailed off a little and Seonghwa turned his head to nuzzle Yeosang’s neck. “...Anyway, You were very patient with me. You always have been. And I promised that I would take care of you in return."

Seonghwa lifted his head a little. “I don’t think anything now is as bad as all that…” 

“Shh,” Yeosang tapped the back of his neck, though not sharply. “Don’t discount my concerns. My point is that as tempted as I am to allow you to distract me from my worries with sex, even if you can’t tell me what’s going on with you right now, I would be happier to see you sleep. I think it would be way more fun to let you exhaust me when you’re not so exhausted yourself.” 

“I’ll try, Yeosang.” Seonghwa murmured. He was resting heavily against Yeosang, his breathing coming in long and even breaths. Even in their odd position, he was falling asleep. Yeosang took this as an agreement to sleep. Rather than bothering himself with encouraging Seonghwa to get into more comfy clothes or do any of the normal things one would do before bed, he was content just to get him to lay down again. Seonghwa obliged and let him adjust his pillows and covers and smooth his soft hands through his hair and over the sides of his face.

Thinking that he was asleep, Yeosang leaned down and pressed a kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead and drew away to make himself comfortable. A hand grabbed his collar, stopping him only an inch or so from Seonghwa’s face. He opened his eyes, a pout clear on his features and Yeosang laughed a little, knowing exactly what he was demanding. 

“Goodnight, Seonghwa,” He whispered before kissing his lips and settling in close. 

So it was this place. Yeosang was nothing but a spectre drifting in a black void, that was not so empty if you knew where to look, what to listen for. He was intimately familiar with places like these and so he moved without fear even as a dark fog rolled along, nipping at his non-corporeal heels. There was a light in the distance. It was nothing for Yeosang to blink ahead, the light growing by the second to reveal a flaming figure standing before a closed door. 

“Is this where you go then?” Yeosang murmured, slowing as he approached the figure. Even here, projecting made Yeosang undetectable. He circled the being once or twice before flitting close and touching his face. “This is not the same as sleeping.” 

“San?” Seonghwa, the spirit made of flames, turned his head in the direction of his voice and lifted a hand to touch his own face. His voice echoed out into the void and dissipated. 

“Oh, Seonghwa…” Yeosang blinked a few times before lifting a hand to his own brow in sadness. Was this what he was losing sleep for? Was he waiting for a monster they’d agreed was beyond their help? The sound of a door opening and closing reminded him that it was not just Seonghwa standing here in the void. He turned around to face the door. It looked nothing like doors they had shared before, nor like any doors they’d shared with anyone else. And then Yeosang wondered…

“Are you...standing guard?” He looked back, knowing no answer would come from Seonghwa who had returned his attention to the door. “Of what?”

He approached it and noted the sigils scratched into the frame. Protection against many spiritual maladies, including Seonghwa’s own pyromancer spirit...Including himself as he was now. Yeosang looked at the doorknob and wondered what would happen if he walked through. Would he disappear? Or would he be completely visible? With a short glance back toward Seonghwa he decided to risk it, grabbed the knob and entered. 

Dissonance could not accurately describe the chaos that erupted when he stepped through that door. He was in a room, he thought, red from floor the ceiling but everything else was a vibrating blurry mess. He thought he saw objects changing as they whipped past him and passed through him. The floor turned and shifted as if it were a glitching computer model. Static blared around his head making the only discernible sound, yelling, very faint. He could barely tell if he was yelling or if it was someone else. Turning back toward the door, he found that it was gone and panicked. He made the quick decision to step out of his astral projection and into whatever spiritual space this was and hoped that there were no consequences for Seonghwa to deal with back in the waking world. 

Yeosang collapsed to the floor gasping and clutching his head. But the floor wasn’t moving and the air wasn’t full of static. Shaking, he lifted his head to find that the red in this room was ceiling to floor drapery. The furniture, though fine, was still shifting however and it made him sick to try and focus. He whispered something under his breath and slapped his palm against the floor. The room was suddenly in uniform, resembling a well furnished parlor with a fireplace. 

Staggering to his feet, he found that he was wearing clothes he’d never owned, a silken black button up and a pair of slick slacks. His hair was pushed back and he looked very...fancy. Yeosang wondered who had constructed this place. He felt Seonghwa everywhere but in the design or fabric of the room itself. Coming to grip the back of an armchair he continued to study the room and, of course, look for the door which was still missing which meant it did not belong to the designer who would no doubt be able to conjure a door at will. 

A groan from behind the loveseat opposite of the armchair startled him and Yeosang watched wide-eyed as a pair of hands used it to pull themselves upright. He was shocked, to say the least, when a Hongjoong dragged himself to his feet. He was dressed just about as sharply as Yeosang himself and he knew without a doubt that this was the designer. He hadn’t seem Hongjoong in weeks, not since he’d met Yunho, and that had been the first time in _months_. This man had made himself rather scarce and but here he was, the designer of a dreamscape. 

He didn’t appear to have noticed Yeosang yet, looking around the room and probably wondering what the hell had just happened. Hongjoong’s gaze passed right through him, but lingered suspiciously in his direction. All at once he seemed to realize that the room was not shifting in size and design anymore. Everything had come to be still and definitive. 

“Nothing is moving…” He murmured. And then more clearly, “Who's there?” 

“Tch…” Yeosang made a noise under his breath and continued to watch Hongjoong. This dreamscape was sloppy. Had he not asserted his own will through incantation, the features of it would still be shuffling. A very faint but now noticeable hum in the air denoted that he was standing in a thin pocket dimension within the room that disallowed Hongjoong to see him. Were he standing in a different one, it might be the other way around. He was going to use this for his own observational purposes for now. 

“I said _who’s there_?” Hongjoong’s tone became somewhat irate. He definitely knew. Yeosang stood still as Hongjoong approached the chair, looked down into it and then wandered around it to stand _very_ close, his eyes searching the space where Yeosang stood as if it were empty. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed with Hongjoong’s ability to perceive the invisible. If Seonghwa’s protective sigil had not so thoroughly disrupted his projection, he might have been detected just the same. 

“I know you’re there.” Hongjoong said, lifting a hand to touch Yeosang. He shifted only lightly to avoid it and kept watching. Hongjoong’s angry expression softened to disappointment with a hint of...regret? No. The sudden sense of regret was wafting off of Hongjoong like body heat. It was part of his aura. “...Seonghwa?” 

Yeosang immediately lifted his arm and held his hand beside Hongjoong’s face for a moment, spoke another single word incantation and snapped his fingers. Hongjoong slapped his hands over his ears and doubled over. Pressure, condensing, an absence of sound as if plunged into a vacuum, followed by a pop and crisp, bright clarity. The room was instantly more vibrant than before and even Yeosang felt as if his ears had just had a good cleaning. 

“Ah,” Yeosang sighed. “Nothing quite like aligning your dreamscape veils, that’s what I say.” 

Hongjoong, reeling once more from yet another sudden adjustment to his room, snapped upright and let his hands drop from his ears. He took a few steps back from Yeosang and looked him over. “H..how did you--? No one else is ever in here.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. You have a pyromancer guarding one of your entrances. And it wasn’t your door. “

“I have a what?” Hongjoong turned instinctively toward an adjacent wall to look at the door that had formed there. Yeosang noticed it as well and immediately tried to approach it. Hongjoong, confused and panicked rushed ahead of him and pressed his back against the door. “No! Explain.” 

Yeosang’s gaze narrowed and flickered up and down Hongjoong’s form. Finally he tilted his head. “This is Seonghwa’s door and you...are waiting for him.” 

“I am not. I don’t even know what this place is. I just…I sleep and I’m here. It’s never...held this still for so long, though.” 

“How can you not know what this place is? You made it. You’re the sloppy architect of this place,” Yeosang gestured around. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the stability spells. With all your poking around and half-baked spell casting, I have a hard time believing that you don’t at least have an idea of what you’re doing. The only doors that go in and out of dreamscapes are the ones that the designer allows.” 

“If that’s true then you shouldn’t have been able to astral project into it. You shouldn’t have even been able to find it,” Hongjoong seemed irritated and angry all over again. Yeosang hardly seemed to care. He did look a bit intrigued, though. 

“What makes you think I can do something so complicated as astral project into someone else's dreams?” 

“Aren’t you the best there is?” 

“...According to who?”

“I don’t...I don’t know.” Hongjoong shook his head. He genuinely didn’t seem to know. 

“What a stupid lie,” Yeosang stepped toward him. “Where did you learn this about me?” 

Hongjoong, who had been on the receiving end of Yeosang’s powerful will more than he cared to be, answered without thinking. “Seonghwa. Here...With Seonghwa.” 

Yeosang watched the revelation on Hongjoong’s face as the answer came to him without warning. The other man looked out over the room as if he were seeing it differently for the first time. “What else has Seonghwa told you about me?” 

“That you’re...special...I--” Hongjoong slid away from the door, one hand pressing to his temple as he wandered over to find the nearest seat. Yeosang watched him without much surprise or concern. In fact, a cold expression was forming on his face as his eyes flit over the room again. “What’s this? What’s happening?” 

“What else did you and Seonghwa talk about in this place?” Yeosang moved back to the center of the room and sat across from Hongjoong who had plopped down in one of the arm chairs. 

Disappointment and regret had returned to Hongjoong’s features as a permanently fixed expression. “We just...talked about us. Mostly just us. He’d read my fortune or teach me a spell and we’d…” 

Hongjoong looked to Yeosang who was watching the fire crackle in the fireplace, expressionless. He was obviously waiting for Hongjoong to continue and said nothing for the moment. 

“How? Why is this happening? Why am I remembering all of this now?” 

“Probably because you’re a shitty architect,” Yeosang said unapologetically. “You’ve allowed your subconscious to become tangled within infinite veils trying to hold this place together, treating it like a dream instead of the tool it’s supposed to be.”

“I _didn’t_ build this place. I think I would remember! Seonghwa probably--”

“If this dreamscape belonged to Seonghwa, it would be a whole, beautiful and skillfully crafted vibrant world,” Yeosang snapped, turning his burning gaze from the fireplace onto Hongjoong. There was a hint of anger in his features but mostly pity. Hongjoong fell silent and eventually looked away, himself. “You probably conjured it up trying to do something stupid like lucid dream or _astral projection_.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer and Yeosang rolled his eyes. 

“You’re the reason he can’t sleep,” Yeosang continued. Hongjoong returned his attention to the other, concern creasing his brow. “Let me see if I can divine a timeline, hm? You created this place and invited Seonghwa, whether you knew it or not. Your fragmented construction did a number on both of your subconscious but he likes you so he allowed it.” 

“Hey--”

“And then you both did whatever it is you do here, or tried. Who actually knows how many times you crossed paths with so many ways to get lost in a little room. Whatever it was, you thought it was _aaaall_ a dream but Seonghwa, because he is a smart and seasoned witch, figured it out first and I’m guessing he figured out that you hadn’t figured it out yet. Because you’re not very bright, Hongjoong, not in witchcraft. Anyway, you were acting weird last time we met and next I know Seonghwa can’t sleep and you haven’t shown your face in weeks. My very sad partner is now standing outside his door to this place, guarding it against all manners of demon and spiritual assault including _himself_. And I think it’s because you said something. So you’ve broken his heart and now you miss him.” 

When Yeosang had finished, Hongjoong was trembling with...What? Rage? Embarrassment? Anticipation? Whatever it was, Yeosang could see that he was most likely correct. Suddenly, Hongjoong got to his feet and attempted to cross the room to Seonghwa’s door but he leapt back when Yeosang was blinked into view standing in front of it. He let out a shaky breath, glaring at Yeosang in a way that was no dissimilar to the way he had regarded Seonghwa on their last encounter.

“You don’t get to do whatever it is that you think you’re going to do. Not here in this place. Not after whatever you said or did out there,” Yeosang said carefully, as he stepped toward Hongjoong. Stubbornly, Hongjoong held his ground even as Yeosang was standing so close to him that they were nearly touching. “You fucked up. And now you get to fix it the hard way.

“What is this? You mess with my boyfriend, you mess with me?” Hongjoong asked through grit teeth.

Yeosang rolled his eyes and a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. “Uuugh, Sure. You messed with my boyfriend and now you’re messing with me. You see, I love Seonghwa more than anything. He’s _everything_ to me. That doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for him, Hongjoong. Or that he can’t have feelings for you. I’m not a jealous person. Lovers fight all the time--”

“We’re not lovers,” Hongjoong said quickly and flinched when one of Yeosang’s fingers pressed to his lips. He had never looked so shocked for someone to be touching him in his life.

“Sh, Let me finish.” Yeosang shushed him sharply before withdrawing his finger so that he could use the same hand to curl at the back of Hongjoong’s neck. “I don’t have time for your denial or your confusion. You and Seonghwa can be whatever you’re supposed to be. But if anything happens to him because of your carelessness, your arrogance, your thoughtless conjuring, Hongjoong... I’ll kill you.”

Hongjoong stood frozen beneath the grip on the back of his neck, masking his anger but not willing to look Yeosang in the eye. The other leaned in and he felt a pair of lips against his ear that caused him to shiver before Yeosang continued in a whisper, “Easily and happily.” 

Yeosang leaned away with a light, almost kind smile on his face. To say Hongjoong was wary would be an understatement. It was everything in him not to step away from Yeosang when the other released the back of his neck. It was a miracle he didn’t flinch at a short pat to the side of his face. 

“But that’s not going to happen. We’re going to be friends for as long as you feel like you can handle all this real life witchcraft nonsense you’ve been chasing after or whatever,” Yeosang turned away from his sharply to face the door. “Now...There are some pretty specific sigils and runes on the other side of that door, keeping _you_ safe. So I’m afraid I can’t let you open it. What I want to know is why? Why is Seonghwa standing guard in his sleep?”

It took a moment for Hongjoong to find his voice. There was something about having his life threatened by a provenly powerful witch that made it hard to form coherent thoughts immediately. He came to stand next to Yeosang to view the door as well. 

“I don’t know...I told him to stay away,” He said honestly, which earned him a pretty dark glance for Yeosang. 

“But he isn’t. He’s protecting you from something out there. Has this door ever behaved strangely?” Yeosang reached out to run his hand over the frame as if trying to feel for the answer. 

“Once,” Hongjoong confirmed. “No...twice. The doorknob rattled and...Seonghwa left. But after that, we were...Uhm...Well the door just started shaking and something was pounding on it trying to get in. The room filled with embers and Seonghwa left again. Another time there was no door. There was just darkness, a void. There was something in it like...it was so big _was_ the void. And then it was a man with red eyes. And then...A fiery man burned it away and told me to wake up.”

When Hongjoong finished recounting his last most memorable experiences he looked to Yeosang who was staring at him with a somewhat slackened jaw and a crease in his brow. They stared at each other for a long moment before Yeosang spoke again.

“You were on the other side of the door?”

“I don’t know. It was just...Darkness and then...flame.”

Yeosang searched his face and Hongjoong felt heat rise in his face as the other’s expression shifted into something entirely unreadable. “That’s all I know.”

“I see…” Yeosang regarded Hongjoong a moment longer before he put his hand back up against the door. “You have to close off this room to him, Hongjoong.” 

“What?”

“You must,” He insisted. “You are not safe here.”

“I...don’t want to do that. I made a mista--”

Yeosang spun on him then and placed both hands on his shoulders sternly. “Yes. You made a mistake and now you must fix it. In fact, it can’t just be this door. Destroy this dreamscape and don’t come back. You must know the sigil for destruction by now. This is a small space. You can do it. I’m going to go out this door and you will destroy it behind me. When you go out your door, you must destroy it behind you. Do you understand?”

“I--” Hongjoong gave a desperate glance to Seognhwa’s door and Yeosang shook him.

“I know you’re not about to argue with me. Just get rid of this place. Then come by the shop...say whatever it is you need to say. I have to check on Seonghwa, now.” And with that Yeosang whipped the door open and left, slamming it behind him.

Hongjoong was left, as he usually was, completely and terribly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy! Lots of discourse around shipping dynamics lately. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm in that "I do what I want" camp and this fic is Seongjoong centric in the long run but very poly-friendly. 
> 
> As always I'm very happy that you're here, reading my stuff. Your comments mean a lot to me and I'm sorry I don't always get around to answering them but believe me, they're always a highlight of my day~


	6. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The witch he’d just met had made him uncomfortable, his parting words he’d found to be somewhat upsetting. The true revelation that he had had an empathic experience would come later. Whatever he was feeling now, he was getting the impression that it was a residual feeling from their handshake which had turned out to be more of an enlightenment than a greeting. Despite the man’s friendly demeanor and his happy smile Hongjoong had taken away only one powerful emotion: excruciating rage. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back on my bullshit! This fic is still VERY POLY FRIENDLY and I'm having fun!

The cluttered, old oddity store hadn’t changed at all in the months since Hongjoong had been by it. It was still entirely too dusty and a strange musk hung in the air that told of something mildewing nearby. The old shopkeep had immediately taken to Hongjoong’s companion for the afternoon, Yunho, who was desperately shooting Hongjoong pleading looks from across the store without success. Hongjoong shrugged as he picked up and surveyed items. 

He looked rather bored when in truth, he hadn’t been sleeping well since his encounter with Yeosang in what he now understood to have been something called a dreamscape. His concern for landing inside of it again was enough to keep him awake longer and more often than he ever had. Yeosang had left him with many questions and a real sense of responsibility. Aside from his answers appearing to be out of reach, there was the matter of Seonghwa. A tightness would form in his chest at the thought of the witch, of how he’d treated him, of what he knew of him now and the bond he’d denounced in his own ignorance. 

Thinking of him now, Hongjoong cringed and pinched his brow where a persistent throbbing had intensified, partially from sleeplessness and partially from the nauseating mildew smell of an old building piled with clutter. With a heavy sigh he glanced over to where Yunho stood with the shopkeep, listening and appearing to be very charming, before wandering over to the locked bookcase. Maybe a book would serve as a sufficient token of apology. What were Seonghwa’s interests? Afterall, Hongjoong had been stricken with a treasure trove of information and experiences after Yeosang had alienged his dreamscape veils. 

Seonghwa liked plants and had culled an impressive private ingredient collection from the ones he grew himself. He was good at interpreting tarot. He liked cute animals. Deep ocean blue was his favorite color. He smelled like lavender. His voice was soothing. He had soft hands. He liked to be touched near the nape of his neck. His lips tasted like--

“You like weird books?” 

Hongjoong nearly jumped out of his skin, the unfamiliar voice so close to his ear that he could feel their warm breath. He turned to face a stranger, who smiled at him brightly with an interested expression. The man’s muted lilac hair parted in short waves over his brow and he had blue eyes that Hongjoong found to be as unnatural as his hair color. At his throat was a choker centered with a bright, iridescent stone. Even in this dark and dusty section of the store, it glinted as if catching the full force of the sun. Hongjoong had no answer for this shiny stranger, too tired to respond cordially to his invasion of personal space, so he said nothing. 

“I like weird books,” The man said, reaching past Hongjoong to tap the glass indicating one of the old cracked volumes. “Parlor games from the fifties. Also an excellent guide to group divination and summoning spirits. You know...back when witches still had fun.” 

“Witches…” Hongjoong responded awkwardly, still uncomfortable with the closeness with which he stood. 

The stranger raised his eyebrows at Hongjoong and tilted his head a little. “Witches. That’s who these books are for aren’t they?” 

“Heh…Sorry, I don’t usually hear that too often,” Hongjoong said, slipping around the other side of the man so that there was a bit of breathing room at his back. The other tracked him as he spoke, looking him over, clearly assessing him. 

“You must be new. Well that _is_ fun, actually. You don’t meet a lot of new witches. It’s usually a bunch of us old hags sitting around and talking about the good old days before the internet and cellphones sucked all the mystery out of life.” 

Hongjoong was the one casting desperate glances toward Yunho now as he’d escaped the shopkeepers conversational thrall and was now entertaining himself by examining knicknacks. It took a moment for him to register what the stranger had just said to him and he returned his attention quickly. “I’m sorry, what? Did you say _before_ the internet and cellphones?”

The stranger smirked a little as Hongjoong gave him a once over and then a twice, trying to equate what he’d said with the way he looked. He looked young, maybe even younger than Hongjoong. Had he just just been cornered into a conversation with a crazy person. 

“Yeah,” The stranger tilted his head curiously again. “Sounds like your coven’s been holding back?” 

“I don’t...have a coven,” Hongjoong was still processing his remark about the good old days, rubbing his tired eyes and pinching his aching brow again. “I’m sorry, uhm...Who are you?” 

The stranger excitedly held out his hand for Hongjoong to take, “Wooyoung. I’m new in town.” 

Hongjoong eyed his hand warily before tentatively taking it. He hadn’t known why he was nervous about taking Wooyoung’s hand until it was in his grip. A chill rode up his spin as a flood of indistinguishable emotions washed over him. Words leapt into his mind and then out again too quickly for him to decipher and he found himself immediately overwhelmed before yanking his hand back. 

“Ooo...I’m sorry. I would have been...quieter if I had known you were an empath,” Wooyoung said with a note of genuine sincerity. Hongjoong rubbed his hand nervously and let it drop to his side. He was starting to realize all at once why Yeosang had been so harsh when confronting him about his botched magic. This person, Wooyoung, was practically speaking gibberish.

“Ah...Sorry, it’s a new development...” Hongjoong said, embarrassed and trying to feign that he understood what he was referring to. Aura’s and empathic channeling had never been a focus of his. He glanced toward Yunho, still entertaining himself with weird little things he was ogling at the front of the shop. 

“Hm...A budding specialty, perhaps.You have to tell me your name before I let you escape,” Wooyoung said, taking note of Hongjoong’s desperate, searching eyes. 

“Oh uh…” Hongjoong shrugged a little. “Hongjoong.” 

“Hongjoong the young witch.” Wooyoung smiled a bright friendly smile. Hongjoong felt guilty for not being put at ease by such a pleasing face. His reference to an age difference was no less jarring than it was the first time but he said nothing. “Very cute. Try this one,” he tapped the glass over a book titled _‘Unlocking Your Potential: A Universal Approach to Alchemy’._ It looked more like a contemporary self-help book someone would use to prop up the short leg of their kitchen table than anything that would jump out to an eager researcher. 

Hongjoong tilted his head a bit. “Isn’t the practice of alchemy...frowned upon?” 

“In some circles, I suppose,” Wooyoung shrugged. “But I sense an adventurous side about you. I’ll look forward to meeting you again, Hongjoong. And don’t worry about what’s troubling you. Your friends will forgive you for being lost.” 

Yunho must have looked over at Hongjoong at the moment in which he frowned because he was on his way over with a hint of urgency now. Wooyoung turned away from Hongjoong a few seconds before Yunho reached him and Hongjoong watched him go, as he passed Yunho and left out the front door. He continued to frown even when he’d gone and Yunho stopped beside him. 

“Are you ok?” Yunho asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Uhm...no,” Hongjoong shook his head, distracted. “I mean--Yes. I’m ok and I didn’t find anything. Let’s go.” 

He hastened toward the door as well and shook his head a bit. His headache was more intense now and he couldn’t shake a feeling that made no sense to him. The witch he’d just met had made him uncomfortable, his parting words he’d found to be somewhat upsetting. The true revelation that he had had an empathic experience would come later. Whatever he was feeling now, he was getting the impression that it was a residual feeling from their handshake which had turned out to be more of an enlightenment than a greeting. Despite the man’s friendly demeanor and his happy smile Hongjoong had taken away only one powerful emotion: excruciating rage. 

As the afternoon neared its end and the chill of evening crept up on them, Hongjoong seemed more preoccupied with thought and slogging through his growing fatigue than he was with the purpose he’d set out with. Yunho didn’t know what that was yet despite devoting his day to it after weeks of having not even heard from Hongjoong. After Hongjoong’s encounter with the stranger in the oddities shop, he’d become less responsive in general which finally prompted Yunho to do some prying. 

“So...We’ve been to lunch and you didn’t eat. Then we went to three weird little shops that I don’t even know how you found, and you’ve barely said a word despite telling me that you needed my help finding something. You almost ran into a pole and tried to cross the street without a walk signal, which I’m going to make an educated guess and say it’s because of sleep deprivation and not because you’re dumb. So are you going to tell me what’s going on or were you just looking for an excuse to spend the day with me?” 

Hongjoong trudged along beside Yunho, exhausted and barely catching every other word that his friend spoke. He opened his mouth to respond, likely just to brush off the question but he yawned so wide and long that his eyes watered. His toe clipped the sidewalk and his stomach jumped into his chest as he braced himself for impact with the ground. The ease with which Yunho caught him and set him back on his feet was almost as disorienting as tripping in the first place. He stood there for a moment before mumbling his thanks and starting to walk again, like a cat trying to play it cool after falling off the back of a couch. 

“Nope,” Yunho snagged his shoulder to stop him and spin him around. “Listen, I appreciate that you’ve come to me with whatever you’re struggling with right now but I’ve gotta be honest. I planned to go see someone who I’m really into and as much as I’d like to walk you home and tuck you in or whatever it is that you need, I think it’s time for you to ask me for that advice. Time to address your crisis, Hongjoong. Preferably without falling over on the street.” 

To Yunho’s surprise, the sigh that escaped Hongjoong wasn’t that of irritation or fatigue but of genuine frustration. He looked and sounded a bit defeated. 

“Are you upset about that weirdo in the store?” Yunho asked, seriously. Hongjoong touched his forehead briefly before shaking his head. “Ok, so why are you extra broody today?”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “I’m not a broody person, you know. I like things. I have fun. It’s not always…”

Yunho lifted his eyebrows and smirked, curious about how Hongjoong would continue. Hongjoong was usually very tired and short tempered, after all.  
.  
“Look. My life is...changing and I’m--”

Yunho’s smirk softened and his curiosity gave way to compassion as he reached out to give Hongjoong’s shoulder an encouraging grip. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Hongjoong. But I’d like to help if I can.” 

“It’s just that...You’re probably the nicest person I know,” Hongjoong said, turning his heavy eyes up toward his friend. “And I don’t know how to apologize to someone for being an asshole.” 

“Apology accepted.” Yunho smirked again which earned him a small slug to his arm. “Ow. You just gotta do it, Hongjoong. I can’t believe you’re this bent out of shape over being a little mean. You’re kind of a crab, you know.” 

“I wasn’t a little mean. I was a complete dick. I really hurt him.” Hongjoong didn’t realize that he was raising his voice and Yunho nodded quickly, ushering him out of the middle of the sidewalk gently as he continued to speak. “All because I didn’t know how to address my stupid fucking _feelings_ and--”

“Ok, ok, ok,” Yunho patted his shoulder. “Ok. Wow. I’m...I don’t know why you’ve come to me but--” 

“Because you’re my _friend_! And you know how to care about people and I’m an idio--”

“Ok! I guess I mean... maybe this would be worth sleeping on?” Yunho suggested. 

Hongjoong was already shaking his head, frowning deeply. “No, I can’t. I can’t sleep. I might do it the wrong way and I just...I just wanna fix it. I just want to fix what happened.”

“Alright. So...I assume we’re talking about your friend Seonghwa?” Yunho asked. There was a long initial pause of Hongjoong just hanging his head pathetically before nodding just a little. “I don’t know or really need to know what happened between you but just talk to him. Just tell him everything you told me just now. Tell him you’re sorry and that you want to make it up to him. Shit, buy him flowers, I bet he likes them.” 

Hongjoong snapped his head up to squint at Yunho somewhat incredulously. Yunho shrugged, giving him a look in return to suggest that he was being completely serious. 

“Listen, you’re a mess. But if you really don’t want to sleep on it, and it’s really eating you up, we’ll go to the shop together. I’m...headed that way anyway. And you can just...get it over with.” The incredulity was immediately replaced with confusion and Yunho rolled his eyes. “I told you, I’m gonna go see someone. Come’on. Quit whining on the street about it. It’s time to rip off the bandage.” 

To Hongjoong’s displeasure, Yunho took them on a detour to the flourist. He stood uncomfortably beside the door with the potted plants while Yunho built a conservative bouquet that was so sparse that Hongjoong wondered what the point was. He became distracted by a familiar scent that always seemed to find him everywhere. At his feet, was a small bushel of potted lavender, accented with a yellow ribbon. Without considering it, he found himself bending down and picking it up so that he could bring it to his nose. He closed his eyes which were heavy and stung with sleeplessness. 

The next he knew Yunho was standing next to him, gently cradling his small bouquet. He opened his eyes to funny looks from both Yunho and the flourist, probably wondering why he was hugging a potted plant to his chest. 

“What?” He said to Yunho, certain he had just been speaking to him.

“I said, you should buy it. It’s small, it smells nice, it’s perfect,” Yunho actually looked a bit suspicious. Hongjoong may have just fallen asleep on his feet. 

“No I’m--” Hongjoong looked down at the lavender one more time before stooping to put it back on the floor. “I don’t need it. I’m ready to go.”

When he straightened back up, Yunho was already at the counter again with his wallet out, gesturing toward the potted lavender. By the time they were outside and approaching Seonghwa’s shop, Hongjoong was holding the lavender against himself again looking a little embarrassed and very annoyed. He said nothing to Yunho about buying the plant to give to Seonghwa and instead concentrated on the fact that his stomach was trying to implode on itself the closer they got to their destination. 

He glanced over at Yunho a few times, who was content to walk in silence now which he would have normally been content with himself if it weren’t for the subtly increasing smile and side-eyes in his direction. 

“What’s with the face?” Hongjoong asked. 

“I haven’t really seen you outside of your little project in months,” Yunho said, unable to hide his smile anymore. “I was a little worried you got sick of me but...you said I’m your friend. And you came to me for advice.” 

“Oh my god,” Hongjoong cringed away from Yunho with a shake of his head. “Why are you so corny?” 

“We’re friends! And I give good advice!” Yunho exclaimed, giving a smug laugh in Hongjoong’s direction. Hongjoong rolled his eyes and looked away but there was a smile playing on his lips as well. 

“Yeah, well I’m not so sure about this plant,” He said, looking down at the lavender. 

“Trust me, flowers are always a good idea. I read online if you give someone flowers and they smell them then they’re into you.” 

“I’m shocked you’re single.” 

Before they knew it, they were in front of the shop. Yunho strode ahead, reaching for the door handle but Hongjoong stopped short a few feet away. He was already contemplating turning back when Yunho reached out and snagged him by the back of his collar, guiding him forward and shoving him first through the door. 

It was the end of the day but the shop was not yet closed. The interior had changed a lot since last Hongjoong had been inside. Many of the center displays were now gone, demolished from the looks of the place the last time he had been inside. It was much more open now, there were a lot more plants. He didn’t know why but he wasn’t expecting so much change. But then, he had been away for a long time. 

It wasn’t long before a pair of footsteps approached from the back hallways, alerted by the service bell above the door. Yunho kept a hand at Hongjoong’s back to discourage a split second decision to bail, which wouldn’t have been unlike him at all. He was already smiling pleasantly, almost in anticipation and Hongjoong wondered what he was so excited about. He was regarding Yunho strangely when Seonghwa rounded the corner into the main shop, looking down as he tied an apron around his waist. 

His hair was longer on one side than Hongjoong remembered and he seemed taller, though that could have had more to do with his desire to shrink until he disappeared than any actual growth occurring. He looked up ready to greet them and noticed Yunho first. 

“Oh hey, Yunho. Sorry I thought you were a custom--” He froze mid sentence as his eyes finally settled on the pair. Hongjoong and Seonghwa regarded each other in stunned silence. It was as hard for Seonghwa to conceal his frown of confusion as it was for Hongjoong to hide his tight lipped fear. 

“Hey Seonghwa! Look who I ran into at the flourist!” Yunho said, slapping Hongjoong on the back, causing him to nearly drop the potted plant. Yunho looked poised to catch it if he needed to so Hongjoong just turned to quickly set it amongst the other plants in the display window. Intensely awkward silence filled the room, despite Yunho’s cheerful greeting. He was the first to break it. 

“So...I came by to give Yeosang something. Is he off shift?” 

There was a beat before Seonghwa tore his eyes away from Hongjoong to acknowledge Yunho, his gaze flickering to the small bouquet in his hands.There was something in his features upon noticing it that caused Yunho to shift a little as if contemplating hiding the flowers behind his back. Seonghwa suddenly looked apologetic. 

“Sorry. He hasn’t been here for a couple of days,” He said quietly. He didn’t look back to Hongjoong and Hongjoong couldn’t tell which was worse, being ignored or being perceived by him. Yunho looked more dejected than perhaps he had meant to. 

“Oh…” He tried to appear thoughtful, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to check it. He was looking at his texts before looking back up at Seonghwa. “I guess I just figured, since he stays here usually--” 

“Yeah, he took off,” Seonghwa said sharply. Yunho tensed and all at once it dawned on Hongjoong what Yunho was here for. His eyes widened in shock but quickly averted when he noted the confusion in Yunho’s expression. “...I mean. He’s taking a few days off. And I think his phone is powered down so…” 

“Seems like a bad time,” Hongjoong interjected suddenly, more of a mumble than a statement. Seonghwa’s gaze landed on him again almost as sharply as the tone he had taken in referring to Yeosang and Hongjoong practically wilted away from it again. There was another long beat before he spoke. 

“Kind of…” This response was a cut to whatever tether kept Hongjoong rooted to the spot. He turned his attention up at Yunho briefly, who was thumbing out a text, a small crease in his brow. 

“Thanks for your help,” And with that he was out the door before Yunho had a chance to realize he was leaving let alone, stop him. 

“No--aaa…” Yunho spun in a frantic circle, looking from the door to his phone and finally back to Seonghwa. For once, he looked exasperated. Seonghwa, on the other hand, seemed neither surprised nor upset. “You have no idea what it took to get him here!” 

“I probably do,” Soenghwa replied, stepping out from behind the counter to begin organizing products on the floor (or at least pretending to). “Sorry Yeosang’s not here. I can have him call you if he turns up.” 

If Yunho wasn’t outright frowning before, he was now. He crossed the room to Seonghwa and put a hand over a stock of incense he was about to unnecessarily adjust. “Hey, are you ok? I know things have been weird for you guys and it has something to do with Hongjoong and your...arrangement but--?”

“You don’t _know_ anything, Yunho. And it’s probably for the best. Someone like your has no business getting mixed up with people like Yeosang and I--” 

“You mean… your open relationship? I’m not judgemental. I’m not trying to move in on--”

“Com’on, Yunho,” Seonghwa leveled a severe stare at him, cutting him off. “You’re not a dumb guy. You’re deliberately ignorant of certain things and forcefully positive in difficult situations but you’re not dumb.” 

Yunho fell quiet. He glanced down at the flowers in his hand, thoughtful. “You mean...your lifestyle or... whatever it is that Hongjoong is chasing after. Like I said, I’m not judgemental. I have friends from all sorts of backgrounds and religions. I mean if you’re comfortable with it, you don’t have to be so secretive with me…”

He trailed off, glancing toward the ceiling as the lights flickered above their heads. Another flicker of light caught his attention almost as suddenly and he glanced around before his attentioned settled on Seonghwa in front of him, a small ball of fire roiling and spitting tiny sparks in the palm of his hand. Yunho stared dumbfoundedly and Seonghwa lifted his other hand, snapping his fingers. A gust of air tussled their hair and clothing before the lights in the shop went out altogether leaving them in near darkness with nothing but the ball of flame in Seonghwa’s hand. 

“Uhm…” Yunho, of course, was at a loss for words. He looked quite disbelieving and skeptical, actually and why wouldn’t he? He was already lifting his free hand in an attempt to touch the fire. 

Seonghwa startled him by jabbing forward with his own index finger the atmosphere between them crackling and filling the room with the scent of ozone as he traced out a white, glowing rune that remained suspended where it was before Seonghwa shoved his palm against it, sending it across the room. Yunho reeled backward, dropping the bouquet he’d brought for Yeosang. Seonghwa traced another rune and let it remain as he stepped away, himself and hurled the ball of flame in his palm directly at it. The rune burst and dissipated as the flame passed through it and seemingly disappeared before appearing on the other side of the room hurling toward them from the direction of the other symbol. 

Yunho cried out and lifted his arms and squeezed his eyes shut, in anticipation to be hit with a _fireball_. There were a few seconds of tense stillness before the lights overhead blinked back to life and a few more before Yunho was brave enough to peak between the space in his arms in unbearable curiosity for what had become of Seonghwa’s fire. He was holding it again, evidently having caught it and was waiting for Yunho to provide his attention before he crushed it in his fist, putting it out in a puff of smoke. 

When Seonghwa dropped his hands, Yunho half sighed and half yelled in relief, his arms coming down slowly as he inched back a bit from Seonghwa. His mouth opened and closed a few times and then opened again. But before he could speak, Seonghwa interjected. 

“No Jokes this time, Yunho.” 

Yunho’s mouth snapped shut again and he stood rigidly in silence. His attention wandered the shop from wall to wall, suddenly feeling as if he were standing on a different planet. The wall of drawers full of organic ingredients, assortment of candles and lovely display of scrying crystals seemed of an even more foreign origin than they had before. Snippets of research he had dug up for Hongjoong returned to the front of his mind and what had at first seemed like eccentric nonsense was all at once gaining substance.

And of course, he thought of Yeosang, who was a part of...whatever he had just witnessed. For whatever reason, this was more upsetting to him. No. Not that he was a part of it, but that Seonghwa was clearly insinuating that it was a part of _him_ and it was so strange and unfathomable that when it dawned on him that Yeosang might be capable of what Seonghwa had just displayed, it made him...sad. It was a part of him and he had not, he _could_ not share it.

“Do you see what I’m saying? It’s dangerous for you to know us. It’s dangerous for Hongjoong too. Neither of you should be hanging around here.” Seonghwa’s words snapped him out of his state of thought and Yunho turned sharply toward him. 

“Hang on,” He said, a hint of panic in his voice. “You don’t get to make that choice for Yeosang. I don’t know what’s going on between you two right now, if you’re fighting or if something bad has happened but he definitely gets a say.”

“That’s the choice he would make,” Seonghwa said, stepping around Yunho, apparently aimed for the back hallway. “Even with me. Especially with you.” 

“Well, I get a say and I don’t accept!” Yunho shouted, so desperately that Seonghwa stopped again and half turned to peer at him again over his shoulder. “So don’t take whatever you’re going through out on me! You can’t just show me...whatever you just showed me with no explanation, no reasoning, no build up in an effort to scare me away just because you’re in a bad mood. Everybody has secrets. Yours are clearly weird as hell and maybe I wouldn’t understand but like it or not, I’m here and I care about you guys.”

Seonghwa’s mouth tightened and he cast his eyes to the floor, feeling Yunho’s outburst for what it was, a scolding. “You really wouldn’t understand…” 

“What I understand is that if he’s dealing with even half of whatever you’re dealing with right now then I have to see him.” Yunho pulled out his phone, immediately in search of Yeosang’s apartment address. “I’m going over right now.” 

“He won’t answer.” 

“I’ll yell.” 

“He won’t hear you.” 

“WHY NOT?” Yunho spun on Seonghwa then, his gaze too seering for his kind face. Hiding his downright frustration had gone out the window. The shopkeeper regarded him coldly and Yunho, determined, stared him down. Eventually Seonghwa’s expression softened and he dropped his chin with a shake of his head. There came a jingling of keys as he reached into the pocket of his apron. Fumbling hesitantly with the key ring, he eventually unclipped one and held it out to Yunho who waited for an explanation before taking it. 

“If he’s not awake, don’t touch him. No matter what you see or hear, don’t move him. If there’s an emergency and you have to move him, do it softly and do not touch the silver thread,” Seonghwa waited a moment before giving an impatient wave of the key. Yunho took it tentatively, his features finally displaying some semblance of concern. Seonghwa continued. 

“He can be gone for several hours, sometimes days. There’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing. Don’t try. So if you leave make sure the door is locked and that you have left nothing out of place. And...Make sure he has something to eat. He usually forgets when he gets like this.” 

Yunho turned the key over in his fingers, frowning, confused and straining not to ask complicated questions. Seonghwa stooped to pick up the bouquet of flowers that Yunho had dropped, the corners of his mouth tightening in a struggle to keep sadness from his features. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander to the potted lavender that Hongjoong had left amongst his plants. 

“Seonghwa, what happened?” Yunho finally asked. “Is Yeosang ok? Are you?” 

A bitter, short and quiet laugh escaped Seonghwa in response. He shook his head and he held the bouquet out for Yunho to take as well. “If he wants to tell you, he will. I’m closing up now, though. Please don’t contact me about all this unless there’s an emergency.” 

Yuhno took the flowers and the hint and turned to go, not without a worried look back at Seonghwa. Perhaps it was none of his business to remark on but he had never seen anyone look so dejected as Seonghwa did when he resumed organizing his shelves. He felt compelled to try to help, even if through unsolicited advice. 

“You and Hongjoong should talk to each other. I know he’s stubborn and hard to read but...Whatever happened between you two, he’s really sorry.” 

Seonghwa paused but didn’t turn back to face Yunho. At first it didn’t seem as if he would say anything before finally, “See you around, Yunho.” 

Yeosang’s gasped quietly and his eyes snapped open. His heart which had beat steadily and a bit too slow only a few moments before was now hammering against the inside of his ribs. He wasn’t sure how long he had been gone, disoriented by a sudden sense of gravity and darkness. The sensation of running, of tall grass whipping at his legs and of a growing dread of being chased was still with him. Panicking, he looked down at his hands in his lap, cupped around a small light peeking between the cracks in his fingers. A thin silver thread was still receding into the center of his form and once it had completely disappeared he found himself fending off nauseousness and vertigo. He must have been gone for a long time. 

His legs struggled to unfold themselves, stiff from disuse and being stuck in the same cross legged position. They quivered violently in his attempt to stand and he instead opted to stay on his knees for a bit long. His apartment was a modest sized studio with a futon on the floor against the farthest bare wall. There were no windows, save for the one in the bathroom which was just off his island kitchenette. The only semblance of decoration were large sigils painted from wall to wall and odd, handmade mobiles scattered over his ceiling. 

He crossed the room on his knees, panting slightly when he stopped in front of a low table, home to empty jars with symbols and runes scratched into the glass. He shifted his still cupped hands over one of the open jars and gingerly let his catch drop inside. A small, beautiful shard of light shifted colors like a bioluminescent lifeform, softly blinking between brightness and a quiet glow. He placed the lid with shaking hands and settled back in a relaxed kneel to ake in the sight of it. 

“I found you,” He whispered and fought back a tremble in his chin. He’d found another small piece of something he’d been looking for and as was typical of him after a journey like the one he had taken, he could barely keep his distress at bay. It was only a small piece. 

His stomach growled audibly, protesting the long absence of food and Yeosang sniffled a bit, clearing away a few tears with the heel of his palm before pulling himself to his wobbling feet. Using the island in his kitchen to inch toward his fridge, he wondered if he had any food at all. His phone would probably have to charge if he wanted to order anything. Cold light dimly illuminated the apartment when he opened the fridge. Fully expecting wilted fruit or expired yogurt, he was shocked to see a bag of something fresher sitting inside. He reached in and turned it, the familiar scent of chicken curry invading his nostrils and causing his mouth to water insatiably. Was this still good?

Pulling it from the shelf, he noted a name written on the bag for the order. 

**YUNHO**

Yeosang whirled in place, his head spinning from the effort as his eyes searched the dark apartment, looking first to the locked door and then to his futon mattress he had crawled away from. There was an unfamiliar form in his bed. Someone was here and it didn’t look like Seonghwa. He glanced at a few of the mobiles overhead, spinning in place with no sign of significant disturbance. Either someone had let something into his apartment and he was about to have to do an exorcism on an empty stomach or...Yunho was sleeping in his bed. 

He ate his curry cold from the distance of his kitchen island, watching the sleeping form in his bed breath steadily and without notice that Yeosang had left it. He tried to keep his thoughts from Seonghwa, trying to avoid the alternating senses of guilt and then acute anger. They’d fought, of course. He didn’t know how many days ago. It was Yeosang’s fault for invading his private dreams but it would seem Seonghwa had answered with an invasion of his own. If Yunho was here that meant he had the key which means he got it from Seonghwa, which meant that Yunho had witnessed him projecting as well as saw the state of his apartment. Yunho now knew that he was a witch, or at the very least, that he was deeply strange. 

A soft buzzing beside him alerted him to his phone having finally charged enough to turn on. Upon doing so, he saw that he’d missed several texts from Yunho from three days prior, the last of which read ‘ _Are you ok? I’m coming over.’_ Yeosang’s eyes prickled again and he was wiping a few angry tears away from his eyes as he pressed send on a text of his own. 

‘ _Why?_ ’

It didn’t take long for Seonghwa to receive it by evidence of the unbearable ellipsis that followed and eventually disappeared. He resisted the urge to slam his phone down if not to wake the sleeping person in his bed, who he was still not sure how to approach or if he should. Maybe he would just take a shower and go projecting again if he could manage not to wake Yunho. 

He did shower, and spent a long time in the bathroom subsequently. Maybe he was hoping that Yunho would be gone by the time he came out. But he knew Yunho well enough to know that he probably wouldn’t just leave if he was awake now. And if he was awake, what the hell would Yeosang say? Finally, he grew tired of sitting on the edge of his tub. He was dressed in a pair of lounging shorts and an oversized long sleeved shirt that fell off his shoulder a bit. His hair was already dry and fluffy for how long he had been sitting there. As quietly as possible, he cracked the door to the bathroom and slipped out. 

Yunho was still where Yeosang had left him. He’d shifted while Yeosang was avoiding him, laying on his other side now with a troubled expression on his sleeping face. Yeosang stood at the edge of the futon for several long moments and just stared, noting that Yunho was using his jacket as a pillow and was so close to the edge, he was in danger of rolling onto the floor. To wake him or not to wake him? Yeosang looked back at the curry container on the counter and then around his apartment. How strange it must have appeared to Yunho when he let himself in. He’d been so good not to touch or move him, only to wait. That was Yunho, though. Even if he had been fearful, he would have waited. 

As he tried to imagine feeling the way that Yunho must have felt when upon entering the apartment, his eyes landed on something out of place, something he hadn’t noticed before. In one of his larger etched jars, on the counter by the sink, was a bouquet of flowers. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, now that it stood out so starkly now against everything else. It was bursting with small buds and new growth, the petals having fallen off once already. Yunho must have placed them there, not knowing the significance of the etchings upon the glass which had evidently brought them back to life. 

He wandered over to them and reached out to caress the petals tenderly before leaning over to bury his nose in them. It had been a long time since his heart skipped a beat in his chest and his face warmed with elation the way it did now. It made him think of Seonghwa again which made him sad and reminiscent. Noting that the flowers had died once already, he looked back at Yunho and wondered how many times he had come back over the last few days or if he had been here the entire time. Yeosang hoped that was not the case.

Tiptoeing over to the futon once more, he knelt softly when he reached the edge and crawled up to lay beside Yunho, tucking a pillow under his own head and laying on his side to face him. Reaching out, he brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes with a delicate finger and used it to trace his lightly knitted brow. Yunho’s face twitched a bit before his eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. Yeosang watched as his face filled with color and realization and he shifted as if he were about to sit up but Yeosang scooted backwards, making room on his own pillow. 

Yunho took the hint and without a word he moved closer to Yeosang, their foreheads only inches apart. They stared at one another, Yunho’s gaze sleepy but unfaltering, conveying something that caused Yeosang’s eyes to mist when he finally averted them. His lip quivered and the lump that had been at the base of his throat since he’d returned from projecting, since realizing that Yunho had seen the way he lives and since texting Seonghwa, became even harder to swallow. 

“I’m sorry…” He said, in a quaking voice. “I didn’t want you to know...this part of me--”

“Please, don’t be,” Yunho cut him off, reaching out to brush back a bit of the other’s hair in the same manner that Yeosang had done to wake him up. “Yeosang...I thought I’d been obnoxiously clear. I just want to know you. All of you.” 

Yunho’s words and the sound of his voice were what broke the dam. Yeosang covered his face with one hand and his shoulder began to shake softly. Reflexively, Yunho scooped him inward, wrapping him up tightly and laying a cheek on his forehead, knowing better than to tell him not to cry. So he let him and waited until his shaking had slowed and the grip on his sides wasn’t so tight. Yeosang sniffled and wiped at his eyes several times before he could finally bring himself to lift his head toward Yunho again. Their bodies, pressed closed, parted just enough for eye contact again which lingered only a moment before Yeosang moved first. 

He kissed Yunho, who welcomed the advance while allowing Yeosang to control the moment. A pair of hands slipped up his sides and wandered into his hair, a gesture that Yunho couldn’t help but to return. Yeosang smelled good. He was warm and soft and fit perfectly against Yunho. Yeosang parted his lips to deepen their kiss and Yunho smiled into the kiss when his tongue tasted chicken curry.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Yunho said when an appropriate break presented itself. He was flushed and his face was hot but so was Yeosang’s. He had never seen him blush so deeply and maybe felt a bit accomplished by that. “Nice place you’ve got here.” 

Yeosang was still breathing against Yunho’s lips, attempting to calm down after putting himself on this rollercoaster of his emotions. 

“Please,” he said. “I don’t think I can take a joke right now.” 

Yunho framed Yeosang’s face between his sturdy hands and touched his forehead to Yeosang’s. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said again. 

Yeosang was quiet, at a real loss for words. Seonghwa must have filled him in at least a little. He can’t have figured it out himself. Then again, it had been three days and Yunho was a keen researcher. Unable to start with any significant explanation or questions of his own, distracted by their proximity and the very recent elevation of their relationship, he could only sigh. A comfortable silence settled over them and Yeosang was reluctant to eventually break it. 

“You brought me flowers,” He said.

“Yeah, they’re doing something really weird,” Yunho responded. So he had noticed. “You got magic beans in that jar?” 

He snickered when Yeosang smacked his shoulder and pulled him in tighter to keep him from hitting. 

“So cheesy,” came Yoesang’s muffled murmur and then a fond, “They smell nice.” 

Another long silence passed, a nap even. Yunho had no questioned for him and he didn’t pry but despite this, Yeosang felt compelled to start explaining. Yunho told him how Seonghwa had tried to scare him off in the wake of their fight. Yeosang remarked on how he was stupid and how Hongjoong was perfect for him. And from there commenced a long night of questions and explanations. Yeosang told Yunho about his fight with Seonghwa, about how it was magical in nature and how he took the blame for violating his privacy. 

He refrained from going into details about their past and instead did his best to describe his magic to Yunho and admitted to not knowing the extent of it. He explained the use of the runes and sigils, that the tattoos up his arms were meant to protect him from spiritual maladies as well as the ones in his home. They touched briefly upon Hongjoong’s struggle with his entry into their lifestyle which brought Yunho great relief as well as filled him with many questions. He’d forgo asking them all at once.

And of course, they kissed each other some more, their Q & A session devolving into bodily exploration, halted only when they realized that neither of them had protection and Yunho expressed his desire to take it slow. Yeosang was content to wait. 

“So…” Yunho could feel Yeosang drifting off but spoke anyway. “My new boyfriend is a witch.”

Yeosang squirmed at the word ‘boyfriend’ but fought off a wide grin as he craned his head to look up at Yunho. Of course, he was wearing a pretty satisfied smirk. 

“Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?” 

“Duh!” Yunho laughed. “I’ve been working on the boyfriend part for a while. The witch part is just a bonus.” 

Yeosang regarded him quietly before pushing himself up onto his hands and knees so that he could shift one leg over Yunho’s middle, straddling him and tracing his fingers over his chest, which was bare from Yeosang’s earlier efforts with the buttons on his shirt. 

“Yunho…” The note of seriousness in his voice caused Yunho’s pleasant expression to change and focus on Yeosang. “I’ve spent a long time trying to...not exist as a witch. Not as I know them. Not as you would ever want to know them. Seonghwa and I both. I don’t ever want to have to explain this part of my world to you. But if you’re choosing to stick around, one day I might have to. Witches are real. But so are so many more powerful and insidious things. Just knowing me could put your life in danger. I wouldn’t blame you for keeping your distance.” 

Yunho looked up at Yeosang with consideration. He took hold of the other’s fretting hands and brought them to his lips to kiss them. Yeosang smiled but did not completely shake his serious demeanor.

“I’ll always listen to you, Yeosang. Whatever you need to say, whatever you need me to know. And I...understand that there will always be things that you don’t want me to know. I won’t pretend like I can be there for you for everything. But for what I can be there for, I will,” Yunho promised. Of course he would. There was no doubt in Yeosang’s mind that Yunho meant every word. But every witch knew that theory was no match for practice. 

“And then there’s Seonghwa,” Yeosang said. Yunho knew immediately that he was referring to their relationship status. “I know we’re fighting right now but...he’s my partner. I love him.” 

“I’m ok with it.” 

“Are you?” Yeosang didn’t want to sound skeptical but he was covering his bases. Yunho gripped Yeosang’s waist and used him for leverage to sit up and bring himself closer to Yeosang. 

“Can I still see you?” 

“Of course.” 

Yunho pressed his face close to Yeosang’s whose breath caught at the suddenness of it. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please!” 

Yunho played as if he were going to but stopped short, much to Yeosang’s frustration. “I’m ok with it,” He repeated in a whisper against Yeosang’s lips and smiled as he felt the shiver go up the other’s spine. 

“Ok…” Yeosang breathed back before trying to capture Yunho’s mouth with his own. He whined softly when Yunho dodged him, teasing by staying just out of reach for only a moment before relenting. He believed Yunho and was content to allow himself to feel safe in his grasp and appreciated by his admiring hands and trailing lips. 

The mobiles spun peacefully above their heads and comfort filled Yeosang’s little studio for the first time in a long time. In the background of their soft kisses and tight embrace glowed a piece of something important in a little jar, on a little table, momentarily forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First let me apologize for the VERY long wait. The world has completely changed since last I posted and I definitely have been needing to adjust. If you're still with me, thank you so much for sticking around, it means a lot! 
> 
> Thank you for putting up with my Seongjoong slow burn nonsense! I hope the payoff won't disappoint.
> 
> I'd also like to make a note about sexual content. This is something I've been struggling with when it comes to presentation. I do hope you're enjoying the mystery! Thanks for standing by. 
> 
> EDIT: On sexual content, I'll be making updates for those chapters on a different twitter account. Please feel free to DM me on my regular twitter or here for that @
> 
> If you found this through Ao3 and want to see art about it or Ateez art in general:  
> Twitter: [BadDreamsBS](https://twitter.com/BadDreamsBS)

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a LONG time since I've written a fic, let alone posted one. It started out as my own personal art AU but folks keep asking for it to be written and I love you guys so here I am...writing. I actually enjoyed this quite a bit and I hope you don't mind a somewhat slow burn.


End file.
